


Ven and the Spirit Pine

by Erzahler_Haven



Series: Ven, Spirit of Nisik [1]
Category: Ori and the Blind Forest, Ori and the Will of the Wisps
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29976138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erzahler_Haven/pseuds/Erzahler_Haven
Summary: In another time, in another land blessed by the Light, a young spirit is called upon to save his home from an encroaching evil.
Series: Ven, Spirit of Nisik [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2207154
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had originally put this in a Google Doc and linked in the main Ori discord server, but thought I'd share it here as well. Hope you enjoy!

A harsh wind blew through the valley. Rain had begun to mist from the clouds covering the sky and shrouding the surrounding mountains. The wavering grass and trees had long since turned a dull yellow or brown, autumn already having made its mark on the land. But, this was no ordinary land. This was a land that lay far to the north, where autumn’s touch comes far sooner than in other lands, and winters are long, frozen and dark.

In this land, from out of its mountains, the snowy peaks feed a great river of solid ice that descends into the valley, its flow imperceptible, save to a precious, ancient few. Where the glacier ends, a lake begins, its waters bringing life to the many trees, plants and animals of the valley.

Dusk had already settled over the valley, and while the retreating sun and the clouds made the sky grow darker with every moment, yet a light remained. Among all the trees of the valley swaying with the wind, firmly stood one towering above them all, with a height that only the mountains surpassed: a great, lustrous pine tree. At its core, with a brilliance like the full moon, swirled a sphere of white and ocean-blue light.

This was the Spirit Pine, of the land and forest of Nisik.

And from the Spirit Pine, floating away amid the rain and harsh wind of that darkening night, was a single, luminous seed.

Lifted by its protective wingcase, the seed rode the wind through the valley, far from the Spirit Pine. It floated over the trees, beyond a stream fed by the glacial lake, and into a clearing. Buffeted by gusts and the rain, the seed eventually dipped below the surrounding treetops. Once there, the wind was no longer strong enough to buoy up the seed, and so the seed descended more rapidly, finally alightling in the clearing’s tall yellow grass near the trees at the far end of the clearing.

For a moment, nothing happened after the seed came to rest, its bluish-white glow persisting, not dimming. Then, it began to grow brighter, and as it grew brighter, the light grew also in size, illuminating both the clearing and the trees nearby. Soon, the light was nearly bright as lightning, yet still retained its bluish hue. And then, with a sudden flash and a sound like that of a small thunderclap, the light dissipated.

The light did not completely vanish however, for there, curled up in the grass with a pale blue glow where a seed once laid, now lay a spirit. He seemed to slumber, his side rising and falling gently with his first breaths of life. He did not awaken, seemingly undisturbed by the growing cold and dark around him. None were there to wake or greet this new arrival to Nisik, only the wind and the patter of rain.

As night settled and the temperature dropped, the rain began to freeze, pelting the sleeping spirit enough for him to stir. He opened his eyes, and groggily looked around as he sat up. He could see nothing but tall, dead grass, taller trees off in the distance, and veiled mountains looming behind them. He didn’t know where he was, or even who or what he was.

He did not dwell on his identity for long. With his coming into consciousness, a multitude of instinctive thoughts and sensations came upon him like a crashing wave. The wind whistled in his ears, the smell of wet earth filled his nose, and it was cold. And his mouth and throat were dry. The realization of this last sensation told him he needed water, but with that, he also realized he could hear water. While the wind’s volume varied with its intensity, there was also a distant but constant rushing sound that he knew was the answer to his thirst...if he could find it.

He began standing to focus on the direction the rushing sound came from, but having never done this before, his legs buckled under his own weight, and he fell. Undaunted, he tried again, this time standing more carefully. 

As he slowly stood, he looked around again. The grass was too tall and thick for him to see into it, but beyond the grass, he saw tall trees all around him. In one direction, he saw the sky was not dark, the clouds being illuminated by some light that was obscured by the trees. The rushing sound also happened to be coming from the same direction. He did not know what the light was, but for some unknown reason, he felt drawn toward it, even fixated upon it.

He did not realize that he had actually taken a few steps through the grass, toward the distant light, before his legs buckled again, and he fell forward on the ground, the impact knocking the wind out of him. Smarting from the pain, he gave a piteous whine as he sat up. Determined to move, he shoved himself off the ground and back onto his hooves. As he lost balance and fell forward, he caught himself with his arms, settling into a squat from which he slowly advanced on all fours toward the light. 

Eventually, the grass parted in front of the spirit as he reached a bank, and the light filtering through the trees shone upon the source of the rushing sound: a gently moving stream. Spurred on by the discovery, the spirit quickly shuffled forward, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bank as he reached to scoop the water in his hand.

The water was freezing to the touch, but while the sensation was sudden, the spirit was not fazed by the coldness of the water. He got little more than a sip from his hand, but even a sip of the cold, almost sweet liquid soothed his mouth and throat. He then reached with both hands, cupping them together as he continued to drink. The water felt so refreshing and invigorating going down.

As he reached to fill his hands again, he stopped and stared, puzzled at what he saw. Shimmering there in the water was a pale blue creature with a healthy bluish-white glow. It had two sets of ears: larger ones on either side of its head, and a smaller pair atop its head, all of which faded to almost white toward the tips. It had eyes of a glassy sapphire color, a dark colored nose, and a lighter shade of blue on its hands, around its mouth, neck and chest like that of its eartips. He could also see the creature had a tail, which also faded to almost white like its other extremities. 

The spirit continued to gaze curiously, making movements that were mirrored in the stream. Their ears twitched whenever his did, and the creature touched its ears with a hand as the spirit did the same. He tilted his head one way, then the other. He held up a hand, opened his mouth to bare some small teeth, and even stuck out his tongue and made a few other funny faces. All of these things, the creature in the water did right back as he did them. The spirit then reached again, watching as the image distorted and reformed as he ran his fingers through the water.

The spirit then understood that what he was seeing was himself in the water, and he sat back for a moment, pondering on this as he stared vacantly at his legs and hooves, which also lightened in color in the same manner as the other parts of his body. So this was what he looked like?

He then felt an audible groan in his abdomen, and with this, more thoughts and sensations came to him. He needed food, and a distant thought to find shelter began to nag at him. The sensation of the freezing rain had been lost in the midst of all the new discoveries he had made, but now the rain’s pelting was starting to feel uncomfortable. He quickly drank a few more handfuls of water and, feeling renewed enough, cautiously stood on his hooves again. He looked ahead toward the trees, toward the distant light, and then his eyes fell upon the stream in front of him. He looked both upstream and downstream, but saw no rocks or other objects around that might help him to get across. He felt almost compelled to move toward the light, but to do that, it seemed he would have to ford this stream. He did not know how deep it was, but it appeared to be shallow and calm enough for him to not worry about floundering or being swept off. 

He would cross. Bracing himself, he squatted slightly before launching himself forward.

The spirit gasped sharply as he splashed into the stream. The water went up to his chest, the flow and frigid, almost burning sensation far more overwhelming than merely putting his hand in had felt. His hooves landed and remained firm on the stream bottom, fortunately, and quickly he sloshed forward in a panic. His breath became rapid, erratic and ragged as he hurried, and he began shivering almost uncontrollably by the time he scrambled onto the opposite bank. He frantically shook the water from himself, but it was too late. The cold now bit deep into him with every gust of wind, no matter how big or small. Whining from the pain and numbness setting in, he wrapped his arms around himself and staggered onward into the trees, his path lit only slightly by his own glow and the light ahead.

Thoughts of the need for food and shelter nagged his mind more than before, and on top of that, he was beginning to think and feel like he had to sleep, but he did not know why. Was it a symptom of the cold, now made worse from his stream crossing? Had all that shivering sapped his strength? All he knew was that the thoughts continued to grow in his mind, leaving little room for much else. He needed food. He needed shelter. He needed to sleep. Unable to tear his thoughts away as his shivering waned and his eyelids became increasingly heavy, things became hazy as he mindlessly kept a lethargic stride.

After a time, his focus returned suddenly when he bumped nose first into something solid and hard. He yelped from the sharp pain and fell backward, clasping his nose with both hands as he looked up at the offending obstacle: a fallen tree. It looked like it had been large in life, but had toppled long ago, now propped at an angle by its exposed roots. A pile of leaves, needles, moss and twigs had accumulated into a pile over time in the gap underneath. Instinct prompted that the spirit could dig his way into or under the pile and take shelter from the wind.  
With his strength almost gone from hunger, fatigue and cold, there seemed little choice left, if he wanted to survive. He began pawing away at the leaves and needles, but didn’t do so for long before he felt his hand go through, feeling nothing. He put in his other hand and spread them both apart, revealing a hidden hole, large enough that he could fit into with relative ease. He stared in surprise. What luck!

Then he hesitated. Something could be living in there. But, as he contemplated it, he got a strange impression that the hole would be safe. He did not know why, but wherever this thought came from, he also felt he could trust it. And so he crawled in.

The hole dipped down into the ground and then went forward. It was a little tight, but with effort and some grunting, the spirit was able to squeeze past protruding roots to reach a chamber. It was small, too low for him to stand fully upright, but just sizable enough that he could turn himself around if he wanted to go back out. By his own light, he could see that save for another pile of needles, leaves and stripped moss, the place was empty. It appeared to be some forgotten or abandoned burrow. 

The ground was certainly cold, but the place was dry and was indeed the sort of shelter he sought. The leaves and needles could give him some insulation from the ground at least, so he began smoothing out the pile. He soon uncovered a smaller pile within it: an assortment of dried seeds and a few nuts.

Instinct registered immediately: it was food! Almost without thinking, he grabbed most of the seeds in a handful and stuffed them in his mouth. They were dry, bland and gritty, but he chewed them anyway with what few teeth he had until his jaw became too tired, before he strained to swallow it all in one gulp. It was better than nothing, despite his belly rumbling almost as if in protest.

He had found shelter and even just a little food by a stroke of luck, and that left only sleep on his mind as he resumed smoothing the leaves, needles and moss. And yet, as thoughts about food and shelter left his mind, something else came to him as he curled up on the makeshift bed. Except during his stumbling haze, he had been sensing things, not only about himself, but also the land around him. It was why he somehow knew this burrow was not inhabited. He could feel the land teeming with life, but with the turn of the season, the land was now asleep or going to sleep.

So was this spirit. Too exhausted to even shiver, he gave one big yawn before fatigue overcame him, but not before he sensed one last thing:

Something was wrong in the land and forest of Nisik.


	2. Chapter 2

The spirit’s sleep was deep and dreamless. While he saw nothing in his mind’s eye as he slept, he heard a distant voice that he did not know, but thought that he should. Much of the time, he could not understand it, but on occasion the voice came through clearly. It was deep and breathy, but also still.

“...My child..”

“..Return to me..”

“..I need you.”

Nothing about the voice was startling, and yet, the spirit awoke anyway. Still drowsy, he sat up, the tips of his larger ears brushing against the ceiling of the chamber. As he did this, the chamber began to spin, his head throbbed, his vision clouded and, though his belly rumbled loudly, he felt dizzy and sick, laying back down and shutting his eyes while he waited for the spinning to stop. 

When it did stop, he tried again, and like with his first steps, he sat up more slowly. The ails returned, but were more mild and gradually went away this time.

Hunger. Water. There were those thoughts again, flooding his mind along with the thought that he could not stay here. He then remembered that he hadn’t eaten all the seeds and nuts he’d found before he slept, and so he searched his makeshift bed again. He found and picked a few more seeds and nuts, barely a handful compared to the first. He was about to eat them, when he felt an odd sensation in his mouth. He pressed against his cheek with his free hand. He could feel that he now had several more teeth than he remembered seeing in his reflection.

They couldn’t have just grown in overnight. How long had he been asleep?

No answer to that would be found here. It was not an unwelcome development, however. Though the nuts and seeds tasted the same as before, they were much easier to break and chew this time. His belly gave an unsatisfied groan as they went down, and he crawled his way past the roots to the hole entrance leading up to the forest’s floor.

To his dismay, he found the entrance had somehow become blocked. By his light, he could see the leaves, twigs and needles had become coated in something clear, hard and cold. The gap he’d left had shrunk to a size he was too big to fit through, filled in by a white substance he did not recognize.

Squirming to reach, he scraped at it with a finger, and sniffed at the granules. The way they felt on his finger reminded him of the water he had scooped from the stream. He scraped at it some more until he had a handful. He studied it for a time, tracing lines in it with a finger.

Then he saw it in the hardened earth. Within the hole, water trickled down from the white substance. A reminder of his thirst filled his mind again, but he took heart, for he knew now. The white substance, which did not melt in his hand, was also water but in a different form. Could he..eat it?

He was willing to try. It felt cold as it went into his mouth and made his teeth hurt, but as he had hoped, his thirst began to subside after swallowing. That left only food on his mind now, but he would have to get out of here to fill that need. Climbing further up, he continued scraping away with both hands until the hole had widened enough for him to pull himself out. It took considerable time and effort with how hungry and weak he felt, but he was successful. He emerged from the hole, crouched under the fallen tree.

A completely different scene greeted his eyes. He could see the white substance had blanketed the ground all over. The trees that had no leaves had also become white with it, and it heaped on the evergreen trees, the tops of some bending at awkward angles under the weight of it. An icy fog also hung in the air.

It was also bitterly cold, but this was actually lost on the spirit, for he was stunned by the beauty of it all. He could see among the trees more than he was able to before, for everything now covered in the snow dimly sparkled with the distant light.

That light, that once again he felt drawn to. But, hunger remained more immediate in his mind. He continued to dig around under the tree, hoping that he might find something palatable under the snow. He would occasionally pause to munch on the snow to keep thirst at bay. In time, he was able to scrounge up some twigs and a hunk of bark laced with some lichen.

It wasn’t much, but would have to do. He withdrew into the hole a little for some warmth, and nibbled away at what he’d found. It was just as earthy, gritty and even more bland than the seeds from earlier, but not that different in taste, even with the lichen. He didn’t know any different, so it did not bother him; either way, the result was still worth it. He knew he would have to eat again later, but for now, he was satisfied.

He emerged again from the hole, standing and facing the light. Now he felt ready. He stepped forward, minding his footing as he pressed toward the light. 

As he traveled, the spirit noticed something else about all the sensations he had experienced up to this point. Right now, it was the lack thereof. There was complete and utter silence all around him. Even the stream he had crossed, he could no longer hear, and the wind no longer whipped through the trees. The only thing breaking the silence were his own steps in the snow, and the creak of trees and branches as he leaned on them for support as he went. 

The quiet was unnerving. His ears flicked this way and that, straining to hear something, anything besides himself and his steps, which actually sounded loud amid the silence.

Then he heard it, the loud snap of a branch and something brushing against a tree. Startled, he froze and looked around, trying to pinpoint the direction it came from, without success. 

Silence answered him again. Hesitating, the spirit then uttered a nervous yip, hoping maybe he would get a similar reply, or at least something that sounded friendly.

The reply was another startling snap and cracking of branches. He whirled around looking, but once again he could not pinpoint the source. Not eager to linger and find out what caused it, he resumed and picked up his pace, but his halting legs still made him stumble.

He then tripped and fell in the snow. While the fall did not hurt him, he spied something out of the corner of his eye as he regained his footing. Amid the trees, he saw some dark shape move quickly and then disappear from sight, without making any sound.

Instinct flooded his mind. Something was stalking him, something dark, something that hated the light. With no idea on how to defend himself against this unknown enemy, fear began to grip him, his breathing quickened, and he tried to go faster. If he could just get to the light, or at least close enough to it, perhaps they would not follow.

His fear and attempts to run only made his stride clumsier. Every few steps he stumbled, tripped, caught on some protruding branch or slipped in the snow, making plenty of noise in the process. But every time he fell, he’d scramble upright and press on. He couldn’t afford not to, for he saw the dark shape among the trees again, and it was closer. He could hear it now, and now that he knew where it was coming from, and could hear similar noises from another direction, he knew this shapeless, nameless horror stalking him was not alone. 

Again he tripped and fell, but with this fall, one of his legs struck on something hard through the snow. He yelped in pain. He got up again, limped a pace or so and then fell again. Nursing his leg, he looked and saw one of the shapes drawing near, but still could not make anything out except for a pair of glowing, discolored red eyes. It gave a wet, repulsive snarl, like some horribly diseased beast. Then from another direction, he heard a similar growl as another pair of eyes like the first appeared in the shadows.

The spirit looked at the ground, shut his eyes tightly, and braced.

Then, a loud bellow like that of some larger animal reverberated through the trees ahead of him, and the dark shapes suddenly dispersed. The spirit opened his eyes and looked up ahead at the light, a scattering shadow and the trot of hooves heralding the approach of something else.

A great silhouette appeared in front of him, moving forward toward him. It had a large body, but stood on four comparatively skinny legs. Its eyes glowed a faint blue, and its heavy breath misted in the air, the light making it appear like gouts of white flames. And atop its head, it had what the spirit could only visualize as a pair of thin but menacing arms: rigid, bony, bending and branching out with hands and fingers like barbs.

The spirit’s ears--all four of them--twitched wildly as the silhouette then spoke, the words both heard and understood. It sounded..astonished. “A spirit! And it’s alive!” the voice boomed.

The sight and sound of this encounter was too much for the spirit. Losing his nerve completely, he gave vent to a stifled squeak of terror, turned and began scrambling away, tripping and stumbling as fast as his unpracticed legs would allow. He could hear whatever it was trotting after him and kept going, not daring to look back, his rapid breaths escaping him in wheezes. All the while, he was heedless of the voice that followed him, as well as the remorse in what seemed to be her voice. “No, wait! Wait! Please!!” she cried after him.

“Spirit, don’t go! Wait!!” she cried again as the spirit crested a mound of deeper snow. And then, suddenly, with another terrified squeak, the snow gave out from under him, and he fell deep into the mound. Trapped in this hole, he heard the hoofsteps of his pursuer draw closer and closer. Surely his end was imminent.

His pursuer’s breathing sounded deep, but calm as she drew near. “Oh my…” she said as she peered into the hole. From her perspective, the spirit was curled up into as tight a ball as he could muster, his eyes shut tightly as he trembled and whimpered with fright. She withdrew a few paces. “I am so sorry. Forgive me, spirit, I did not mean to frighten you,” she said, trying to sound sincere in hopes that her words would calm him.

The spirit seemed unconvinced, a pitiful whine emitting from the hole. Moved by the sound, she wasn’t prepared for this. “I mean you no harm,” she assured. The whining continued, wrenching her heart as she tried to placate him. “The others are gone, I scared them away. I..”

Still, the whining continued. “I’ve been trying to find one like you,” she said, her own voice trembling with emotion as she pleaded. “Please come out..? Here.” She turned and walked over to the other side of the mound. “If you come out, you can see me better in the Pine’s light, and you’ll see I’m..I’m not like the others that hunted you.”

The whining ceased at her mention of the light. After a silent pause, the spirit slowly emerged to look at his pursuer, his eyes still wide in alarm and his face frosted with tears.

She was right. As the spirit looked upon her, the fear soon left him. She had the appearance of a deer, but much larger and more powerfully built, even for a female. She had hooves like he did, but hers were on all four of her legs, cloven and covered with fur. Her fur was a grayish brown, except for her rump and the mane around her neck, where it changed to white like the snow. Her glowing blue eyes stared intently, studying him with a look that seemed both firm and gentle. 

Most noticeable of all, however, were the “hands and fingers like barbs” the spirit had seen before: they were actually antlers. Notwithstanding this animal being female, she had a broad pair of antlers that curved back and then forward, branching off multiple times and ending in points, mirrored in perfect symmetry. She looked strong and seasoned, yet youthful. There was nothing the spirit sensed about her that made her anything like the dark shapes he saw in this forest. Truly, she was a majestic-looking creature.

“My name is Tuktua, spirit,” she stated, regaining her composure. She hoped that introducing herself would help calm him further. “What does the Spirit Pine call you?”

The spirit’s ears twitched again at her words. He understood what she was asking, but had no answer. His ears drooped slightly and he averted his eyes, feeling embarrassed or even ashamed.

“Oh…” Tuktua gaped in astonishment as she realized. “You don’t even know?” She looked beyond him, toward the light for a moment before her eyes fell on him again. “The light, you feel it, yes? You feel drawn toward it, that’s why you were journeying this way?” 

The spirit climbed out of the hole. The mentioning of the light did sway his thoughts just as she had described. He turned toward it also, then back to her, and nodded.

The spirit’s answer was what Tuktua had expected, but her composure was shaken again as she got a good look at him after he emerged from the hole. He did not know it--for he knew no differently--but he had become thin, even gaunt, during his sleep. She became anxious. “Come. There isn’t much time.”

She lowered herself, the end of her nose barely touching the snowy ground. “Climb onto me, I will take you to the Spirit Pine. You can hold on to my mane, or my antlers.” 

The Spirit Pine. That name impressed on the spirit’s mind more than anything else Tuktua had said. It only strengthened the pull he felt from the light, of the need he felt to go there. And with hunger and fatigue beginning to tug at his mind like they had before he slept, he knew there was truth to Tuktua’s urgency. Knowing he probably would not make it there on his own in his current state, he limped forward, walking up on Tuktua’s head, weaving through her antlers and using them for support before turning and sitting down atop her neck. He then buried himself in her thick mane, preferring the warmth this grip had to offer over her antlers.

Once she felt the spirit’s grip was sufficient, she stood upright. “Just stay awake, spirit. And hold on. Whatever you do, do not sleep again.” She then broke into a canter, weaving between the trees, unhindered by the snow, through the icy fog, toward the light.

Toward the Spirit Pine.


	3. Chapter 3

As they journeyed, Tuktua spoke between heavy breaths to the spirit clinging atop her neck, hoping her words would keep him awake. Seeing him in his scrawny, weak condition, she feared that if the spirit drifted back to sleep, it was possible he would not wake again. “You came from him, you know: the Spirit Pine. All spirits of Nisik are his children, beginning as seeds that fall from the cones that grow in his branches. It’s why you are drawn to him, for you are of him, of the Light.”

The spirit listened. The words not only felt true to him, but also as if they were something he had always known, but remembered with her telling. He gave a little squeeze of his grip in acknowledgement. He then glanced down, watching Tuktua’s hooves strike the snow as she bounded seemingly effortlessly through the trees. Knowing his own struggle to move with such freedom and grace, he couldn’t help but feel a little envious. He had only known struggle, fatigue, weakness, hunger, thirst, and fear in his life thus far. 

I need you. He heard those words of the Spirit Pine echo in his mind from memory, though he still did not know that was whom they belonged to. How could anyone need him?

The sleepiness beginning to tug at him felt to only justify such thoughts. He looked ahead as they pressed on, blinking hard in an effort to keep awake. The light of the Spirit Pine seemed to permeate the air all around them, almost appearing to move because of the icy fog that drifted in the air. He saw that the light was brighter too, which he thought could only mean they were getting close. Having to squint his eyes only made it harder to fight the urge to close them. He shook his head to waken, but it only did so much. He began to whine softly, hoping that would alert Tuktua to his predicament. 

She knew already, for she could feel the spirit’s grip waning, and she hastened to a gallop. Her sense of direction unswayed by the fog and the light, she bellowed, hoping her volume or quickened pace would stir or startle him. “Not yet, spirit! Hang on, stay with me! We’re almost there!!”

It did help some. Having slowly slumped into Tuktua’s mane over the course of the journey, the spirit jolted upright. He couldn’t let thoughts like those of sleep overwhelm his mind again. He had to focus.

They were almost there.

Something was wrong in Nisik.

And then, the Spirit Pine’s words reverberated within him again: “I need you.”

As this happened, the trees suddenly parted as the pair arrived in a large clearing. They seemed bathed in bluish-white light, but as the spirit looked up and covered his eyes, they adjusted so that he could see more clearly.

And then he saw it. A great pine tree, towering so high that he could barely make out the top, stood in front of them. Its great boughs, though weighed with snow, branched in all directions, whilst a myriad of closed cones both large and small faintly glowed and twinkled among them. Many fallen empty cones also laid scattered all about beneath the tree. Not only was the tree huge, it was brilliant with light, seeming to emanate from something further up in the tree that the spirit could not make out. The fog had also lifted, revealing a dark blue sky that he could not tell was that of dawn or dusk. It was a stunning, beautiful sight.

“We’re here, we’ve made it,” announced Tuktua, more to the spirit than anyone else, and sounding relieved. She came to a halt, and lowered her head so the spirit could climb down.

The spirit did so rather absentmindedly, for he had become fixated on the tree. He stepped forward, but then hesitated. He looked back at Tuktua, who merely nodded to him encouragingly. “Go on,” she coaxed. “Surely he will reveal what ails this land and what you can do.”

What he can do? There was that doubt again. He looked back to the tree and shook his head, as if that would rid it of such thoughts. It was not easy, as he had begun to stumble again as he approached the tree. Its lowest branches were high above him, so at least his view and path to the trunk were clear.

As he drew near to the tree’s base, the spirit saw something that gave him pause. Some thick, dark, purplish substance, like that of flowing sap, had been oozing down the trunk and staining the ground, now having long since frozen from the cold. The spirit looked up, hoping to maybe see where or what it was coming from, but to no avail. Too many branches obscured his view for him to tell, but he could see that the stuff had run on the branches as well. Not knowing what it was, the spirit stretched forth a hand to touch it.

He immediately recoiled, gasping sharply in pain. Despite being frozen, the sap-like substance stung and burned like fire to the touch. His sound was loud enough to even startle Tuktua, who advanced toward him, looking worried. “Spirit? What is it?”

Then, the tree suddenly pulsed with light. A loud hum rang in their ears, with a vibration that the spirit felt from the tips of his ears to his hooves, and even in the ground. Tuktua felt it too, and both were frightened by it, but only briefly.

The spirit’s eyes then went wide as light encircled him, and thoughts that were not his own rushed into his mind like a storm-swollen river. In his mind’s eye, he saw the Spirit Pine from a far distance, as though he were viewing it from the air. He saw the land around it: the forest, the mountains, the lake and the great river of ice. But it was not the land in the season he had come to know. It was bright with the day, and instead of being blanketed with snow, the land was a vibrant green, brimming with all manner of life. Glimpses of a host of different trees, flowers, shrubs, ferns and all kinds of animals flashed across his vision.

Nisik was the name of it all, and he knew. And he knew who he was. He was part of it all. He was a Spirit, a child of the Spirit Pine, just as Tuktua had said.

And his name...was Ven.

Then, that voice from his sleep, he heard again in his twitching ears, and in his mind. Like before, the voice was deep and rumbling, but also breathy and still.

“Ven, my child, you have returned,” the Spirit Pine said. Then after a pause, he added, “And you, dear friend, thank you for bringing him to me.”

Tuktua said nothing to this, only bowing her head in reverence as she and Ven continued to listen. As another pause followed, the spirit’s thoughts went again to how he felt something was wrong, as well as the pain he felt when he touched the tree.

“I have been....suffering.” the Spirit Pine then conceded. “Blight..it has come to our land again, but in a season not seen in generations...in a season when my children sleep.” 

Children. Ven’s mind caught hold on that word. When Tuktua had spoken it, it had not occurred to him that she spoke in the present tense. He was not the only one now? Then..where were they?

The Spirit Pine did not answer this, but instead continued. “In the autumn past, the blight came. Carried by the wind from beyond, it found its way into my branches. Instead of being purged by my light, it has feasted on the strength with which I give life to the land. Growing. Festering. Corrupting. Already you have seen its fruits, hunting you.”

Ven thought of the dark shapes that stalked him before Tuktua came to his rescue, shuddering as he heard those snarls again in his mind.

“I am...blemished,” lamented the tree. “I cannot lend but a little of my strength to sustain Nisik, lest I spread the corruption further. And it..” The voice then sounded pained. “..I fear it won’t be enough.”

The tree then spoke to the spirit directly again, again repeating those words. “I need you. I do not have what you require to cleanse me, but, what little untainted strength I can lend….I give to you, Ven.”

The spirit gasped in shock--though not in pain--from the sudden sensation, as the light around him suddenly shone brighter, and a gentle, soothing warmth he had never felt washed over him. He felt renewed, the nagging fatigue and weakness that once plagued him now fleeing his body. He had never felt so...calm. After a time, the light faded from him, and he happened to look down.

He did not realize until now that he had been lifted into the air, suspended from the moment the Spirit Pine began speaking to him. And with a yip of fright, he suddenly dropped.

But to his surprise, he not only landed on the ground on both hooves, but did so firmly. He stood up, staring at his hands and marveling at this newfound vigor he felt within him. He looked up as the Spirit Pine spoke again, who now sounded weary.

“Many seasons ago, I lost a child to the blight. He had learned to use the light, not only to swing and to climb, but also to strike our enemies. Beyond these trees, across the lake, stands a mountain known as the Broken Tooth. Near its summit, a remnant of that child’s light remains there, waiting for another light with whom he can share. With his memory, you can destroy the blight that torments me.”

By this time, the Spirit Pine sounded as though he were fending off sleep himself. “Now go, my child. With your return, it is not yet too late. But, I must..sleep now. May I..awaken whole.”

And with a sigh, the light of the Spirit Pine dimmed ever so slightly, and silence prevailed. Ven looked again at his hands, musing over everything he had seen, heard and felt. He felt more lively than he’d ever known before, but even so, the task the Spirit Pine entrusted him with daunted him. This “Broken Tooth” sounded as though it was far away, even further than he had traveled to come here. He also did not know the way to it. If he saw the Broken Tooth in his mind along with everything else, he did not know it. How was he supposed to get there? Would he even be able to make it there, stumbling as he had been, before hunger, fatigue or some dark shadow claimed him?

“..Ven?”

The spirit turned to see Tuktua approaching him as she uttered his name for the first time. In the midst of everything he was seeing, hearing and feeling, he had not realized she had remained this whole time. She could see he no longer appeared as scrawny as when she first found him. “You look better,” she observed, “almost like you would in the summer. He has generously blessed you.” 

The Spirit Pine’s burden still fresh and heavy on his mind, Ven perked as he realized: perhaps Tuktua knew the way? He knelt, unable to speak much more than a string of urgent yips as he began to run a finger on the snow for Tuktua to see. He traced a clump of vertical lines, followed by a wide oval and then an arrow-like shape, pointing upward. He then ran his finger from the lines, to the oval and then rested it on the arrow, looking up at Tuktua as he yipped again, hoping she might understand.

She lowered her head, examining what Ven had drawn for a moment. Having also heard the Spirit Pine’s words, it didn’t take her long to tell. “The Broken Tooth,” she replied, then nodding. “Yes, I know the way. I do not know if I can make the climb, but I can at least get you there.”

Ven yipped and hopped excitedly, not only at her reply, but also because she understood. Then, he did something else he’d never done before: his mouth curled upward in a beaming smile.

She chuckled at him. “Come,” she said, motioning with her head before lowering it for Ven to climb on again. “We should go now.”

Ven did so more easily this time, again choosing the warm fur on Tuktua’s neck for a place to hold on. As they departed, he took one more look behind him as the Spirit Pine faded from sight behind the trees, its light ever shining through.

He began to wonder.

Maybe he could save the Spirit Pine.

Maybe he could...with a friend.


	4. Chapter 4

As they traveled through the forest, Ven could see through occasional breaks in the fog that the sky was darker than before, leading him to believe that it was actually dusk when they arrived at the Spirit Pine earlier. The journey was unusually quiet, the silence only broken by the steps of Tuktua’s canter and her heavy breathing. This continued for some time, long enough that Ven began to feel uneasy. He didn’t sense anything lurking in the trees, but sensing nothing was almost just as unnerving.

Having buried as much of himself as he could into Tuktua’s mane for warmth, he sat up straight to look around. His first breath at this induced a sudden and unexpected fit of coughing. It took a few more breaths for the coughing to subside as he adjusted to breathing the frigid air. Tuktua took the opportunity to remark between her own breaths. “Good to hear you’re still awake, Ven. It is indeed cold tonight.”

She also seemed to sense Ven’s anxiety, or perhaps she felt a little herself. “Creatures of the blight are strangers to this season,” she said. “They loathe the cold, and I suspect they are more occupied with staying warm than hunting you or I.” She then laughed. “Or maybe they’re just afraid of me; I’d settle for that too.”

Her attempt at humor eased Ven’s mind somewhat. Perhaps if she wasn’t concerned, he didn’t need to be either. He resumed looking around as they continued on. Despite that many of the trees of the forest were devoid of leaves, the extreme cold had gifted them with a unique beauty. Between frost and past snowfalls, every branch and twig of every tree was coated in white, sparkling in the light of the Spirit Pine. Even the conifers that still had their needles sparkled also, for they were weighed heavily with the snow. The spirit couldn’t help but be filled with a sense of both awe and reverence for the land. Tuktua’s sounds of travel almost felt like an affront to the scene, but even that seemed to grow quieter in his ears over time. 

He breathed a soft sigh, closing his eyes--though not in sleep--and remained otherwise silent, basking in the serenity.

He didn’t know how long he’d been that way when Tuktua breathed, “There,” almost in a whisper. Rousing from his trance, Ven looked about him again. The setting appeared to have changed little; they were still in the forest, though now there was a steady breeze to emphasize the cold. “The lake is just ahead,” said Tuktua, “but we will stop here for the night.”

Ven dismounted, observing their setting while Tuktua began pacing around the trees, sniffing and grunting as if she were searching for something. “See if you can find a good spot in the snow to burrow,” she suggested. “You’ll want it for warmth and safety. Don’t wander off too far.”

Her advice puzzled him, and it reflected in his face as he tilted his head and yapped at her. Wouldn’t he have both of those things if he remained close to her?

Tuktua’s reply was labored, for she was busy scraping away at the snow at the base of one particular tree, her hooves acting like small shovels. “I could be wrong, Ven. We could have unwelcome visitors during the night, and I will want to be awake for that. And unfortunately, your light is easy for our enemies to spot in the dark, especially as we get further from the Spirit Pine. Hiding beneath the snow should mask you at least a little, and give you some warmth as well as a little defense.” 

Ven looked a little disappointed, but nodded, seeming to understand as he resumed surveying the area. It then occurred to Tuktua that the spirit perhaps was not as well equipped as she was for digging. She paused her efforts to look in his direction. “Are you able to..?”

She didn’t finish, for she saw that Ven had found a relatively straight stick of hardwood, not quite buried, that he’d managed to pry out of the snow. Once he’d done that, he began breaking off the smaller twigs and eating them. He made a slight face as he chewed them, though he didn’t spit them out.

“Well, you’ll need as much of that as you can get, too,” she admitted. “We won’t have any of it while crossing the lake, so, whatever you can find or perhaps carry.” She resumed the digging with her hooves, and stopped again shortly afterward. “Ah. Speaking of which.”

Curious, Ven drew near as Tuktua stooped. She had dug up some moss and lichen from beneath the snow, and was chewing away at it. He eyed it a little hungrily, licking the corners of his mouth, but then he thought better of it. Tuktua had gone well out of her way to help him ever since they met, and had exerted herself much more than he. He could forbear out of gratitude, if anything, and find other food.

Breaking off and chewing on some more twigs, he returned to searching for a suitable spot to dig a burrow like Tuktua had instructed. It didn’t take long for him to find a sizable drift of snow. It had hardened from the cold, and while he clearly was able to withstand the cold to a degree, he wasn’t so sure about only using his bare hands for the task of digging. Then, as he gazed about and his eyes fell upon the stick he’d been eating off of, a thought came to him. Lifting the stick, he drove it into the drift multiple times, then one last time in the middle of the holes he’d made. He then made a circling motion with the stick, loosening and churning the snow enough that it created a smaller hole that he could deepen and expand off of. At least this way, digging out that snow with his hands would be easier, even if it wasn’t comfortable.

Tuktua, who had finished her meal for now, approached about then, looking perplexed as he churned the snow. She then realized as she saw Ven was able to dig out the snow with relative ease, and both looked and sounded impressed. “Clever little child!” she exclaimed. “Where did you learn that?”

Ven looked up at her, and thought hard for an answer. The idea had come to him in passing at that very moment, but he didn’t know why or how. He gave a little shrug and shook his head, looking as though he were a little embarrassed for not knowing.

“Curious,” marveled Tuktua. “Perhaps the Spirit Pine blessed you with knowledge as well as strength. His children do hear his voice in ways others do not. Well, so I’ve been told, anyway.”

Children. Ven perked at that word being mentioned again, bringing back to his mind the unanswered question he thought before. He yapped at Tuktua, set aside the stick and immediately began drawing on the snow. He traced a small circle, then drew four lines, two on the sides and two shorter ones on top of it. It was a very basic depiction of his head. He pointed to it, and then motioned to himself.

Tuktua was puzzled at this. She knew he was drawing a representation of himself, but that was all she could surmise. His question didn’t become clear to her until he drew several more of the same shapes and lines, grouped together. “Other spirits?” she ventured. 

Ven bobbed his head, yapping again.

Her eyes lowered, and she looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. “They sleep, Ven. Nisik grows cold and harsh with the turn of the seasons, as you have come to know. Many of its animals cannot survive in the cold, and so they shelter in trees, burrows or caves and sleep until spring. Your kind also do this.”

Ven didn’t appear to understand. If that were true, why was he awake?

Tuktua seemed to perceive this question. “You are still very young, Ven,” she continued. “The spirits of Nisik fall as seeds from the Spirit Pine and are born early in the summer, when they have ample time to develop the energy and capacity for such a long rest. But, by the look of you, you fell from the Spirit Pine well into autumn. You were not yet capable of a long rest like the others, and so if you did sleep, it was not for long enough. Spirits born in such a season are rare, and it is even more rare for them to also survive, for they wake too early.” 

Ven had not only experienced this firsthand, but also felt as though he had some vague recollection of this knowledge, perhaps also unwittingly gained when so much flowed through his mind as the Spirit Pine conversed with him earlier. It fascinated him, though it only brought more questions to his mind that he wasn’t sure he could communicate to Tuktua. The foremost of these was how or why she knew so much about him and his kind.

Tuktua could see the question in his face, and shook her head. “I shall say no more for now. Night has fallen, and we both need rest. There will be plenty of time for you to learn about Nisik as we cross the lake in the morning.” She then asked, “Do you feel very tired, Ven? Like you have to sleep and can’t think of anything else but the need to sleep?”

The spirit did feel a little tired, but nothing like he had felt in the past, which was not far off from what Tuktua described. He shook his head. 

“Good,” she replied. “Then, I think it is safe for you to sleep for the night. But first, you should finish that hole.”

Ven gave a soft whine in mild protest, but obeyed nonetheless, planting the stick in the snow as he went to work deepening and widening the hole he had created. Soon, he had already slipped beneath the snow, with icy chunks flying out as he scooped them behind him. In time, he had a burrow with a tunnel and chamber like that of the burrow he’d found before, though this one was smaller. It was still cold inside, but like the one before, the lack of wind along with the insulation created by the snow made it feel tolerable instead of uncomfortable. 

Satisfied, he poked his head out of the burrow, chewing on some of the snow he’d dug up to satisfy his thirst. Tuktua appeared again from the shadows, this time bearing a large rusty brown clump of moss in her mouth. She dropped it in front of him, saying, “Found some more. Thought maybe you’d want it.”

Ven beamed a smile at her and yapped as he wiggled out of his burrow. Grabbing the moss with both hands, he bit into it...and froze.

Everything else he’d eaten so far tasted bland, gritty and/or earthy, but this..was spongy and so bitter that he couldn’t stop his face from contorting in disgust. Knowing Tuktua was watching him intently however, he fought back the urge to spit it out and, in an effort to show some appreciation, he uttered an “Mmmmm”, his fake savoring of the mouthful as forced as his crooked smile.

Tuktua couldn’t keep a straight face, rearing back her head and bursting out laughing. It actually took her a moment or two to regain some bearing. Ven just stared at her in shock, chewing very slowly. Had she just played some mean trick on him?

She then cleared her throat, shook her head and apologized. “Sorry, Ven. I’m not laughing at you, just...I know, it tastes awful,” she admitted. “I know because I’ve had to eat it myself, multiple times, and I’m sure I’ve made the same face as you. But, food is scarce in the winter, and as bad as it tastes, you’ll find fewer things in this season that are more filling and nourishing. You wouldn’t have offended me if you spat it out, but thank you for trying to be grateful anyway.”

Ven’s ears flattened, not looking that appeased. He managed a grumble as he kept chewing, and reluctantly took another bite, again unable to stop himself from making a face. At least it would tide him over better than a few twigs would.

Being as barely palatable as the moss was, it took Ven some time to finish eating it. He hung his mouth open and stuck his tongue out, looking as though he would gag from the persisting bitter taste. Tuktua had used this moment to survey the area some more herself. The wind had begun to pick up as she returned and saw how he looked queasy. “Have some more snow,” she suggested. “It helps get the taste out at least a little.” 

She then peered beyond him, and nodded approvingly, even smiling a little at Ven as he munched on more handfuls of snow. “Good work on that burrow. Now, you should mostly cover up the entrance, and then rest. I will see about foraging for more food for us to have in the morning, and keep watch.”

Her tone then became very serious as she looked him right in the eyes. “Whatever you do, Ven, just stay in your burrow and keep silent until I tell you differently. Your best defense right now against those who would harm you is to stay hidden. Understand?”

Ven gave an uneasy whine, his ears wilting as he looked sad. He did understand, but there was something else he did not understand. He had done nothing wrong; why would anyone or anything want to harm him?

It was a question that would have to wait for tomorrow. He gaped as a yawn came without invitation, and he stretched as he obeyed Tuktua again, slowly wiggling himself backwards into the burrow he’d made so he could mostly cover the hole like she had said. Once he’d settled in, he heard Tuktua in a low voice, saying, “Rest well and stay safe, Ven.”

He had burrowed far enough into the snow that he could not see outside from where he would sleep, but he could hear Tuktua’s heavy breathing, her hoofsteps, and her pacing. He wondered what she would do all night while he slept. Would she sleep too, despite the danger she feared? Would she watch over him that whole night?

Then that doubt crept into his mind again. ...Was he really that worth protecting? Couldn’t some other spirit be roused from that deep sleep Tuktua had spoken of, to do what the Spirit Pine had asked? Why could only he do it?

_You’re still very young, Ven_ , he heard Tuktua say again in his mind. The words felt almost condemning now, even though that wasn’t what she originally meant by them at all. So much could go wrong because of him, and he couldn’t stop feeling at fault for bad things that had not even happened, but in his mind, felt almost doomed to happen. All because the Spirit Pine trusted a very young, hungry, helpless child that only hours before struggled to even walk. 

The spirit curled up tightly, the doubt darkening his mind. He suppressed a sad whine before sleep overtook him.

Ven’s sleep was dreamless again, and this time with no voices or echoes from his memory. He opened his eyes wearily, gazing around slowly as his mind still swam in a haze. How long had he slept? Was it morning yet?

He had almost drifted back to sleep when his ears pricked at the sound of steps in the snow. They were slow, almost like shambling. He heard breathing also, but it was guttural and rattling.  


He snapped awake, tensing all over at the awful realization: that was not Tuktua he was hearing. Someone--or something--was prowling outside.


	5. Chapter 5

A disgusting growl like Ven had heard before confirmed his fears, and it was closer now. The spirit began to breathe rapidly as his fear mounted, his ears twitching like mad as he began to quiver in terror. Still, he dared not utter a sound. Whatever was outside was on to him, but did not yet seem to know for certain he was there.

It would not be long at this rate however, for the ragged breathing and sniffing of his predator sounded as though it was probing the covered entrance of the burrow, just out of sight.

Ven covered his eyes with his hands, shaking almost uncontrollably. Where was his friend?

Just then, the sniffing stopped abruptly and his hunter withdrew. Ven stopped shivering, and lifted his hands from his bewildered eyes, straining to listen for whatever might have drawn attention.

He was relieved--but only briefly--to hear the familiar hoofsteps and snorting of Tuktua. Having heard but not actually seen his stalker, fear returned, feeding on his imagination. Like before, it sounded like some horribly plagued creature, something that belonged only in the most terrible of nightmares. He could hear it snarling again, though it was no longer in his direction. From Tuktua, he could only hear her huffing, snorting and pawing the snow with her hooves. Would she be able to defend herself?

Too frightened, Ven could not muster even a squeak as the blighted creature gave vent to a harsh, sickening roar, and sounded as though it charged Tuktua. The air filled with the sound of the ensuing melee, snow flying as limbs flailed, stamped and skidded on the frozen ground, the grating barks and snapping of jaws mingling with the bellows and shouts of Tuktua.

The fighting had not drawn close to Ven’s burrow, but this was no comfort to the spirit. His friend was in danger. He wanted to help her. It did not matter to him that he was doing as she said by staying hidden; he wanted to throw caution to the winds and come to her aid. 

But fear had taken too strong a hold of him. Feeling utterly ashamed, he did nothing. Nothing, except cower in his burrow.

“Nnnggghh!!” Tuktua suddenly cried in exertion together with a crunching sound, followed by the sound of something tumbling in the snow. Whoever it was seemed to slowly stagger upright, rasping for breath.

All four of Ven’s ears then stood on end, and he felt a chill not born of the cold as Tuktua gave a savage roar of her own. Her hooves pounded the ground in a full-on gallop, followed by a dragging sound, then a louder crunching sound amid the crack and groan of wood.

Everything then went eerily silent for a moment, but then the subdued sounds of a struggle revealed the fight wasn’t over. Something was writhing in the snow or perhaps against a tree, but Tuktua could also be heard with her strained grunting.

Ven felt almost sick with horror. He knew one of them was dying, but just by listening, it was impossible to tell who.

Then...with a final rattle of breath, something slumped in the snow, and all was silent again.

The spirit did not relax, for he did not know what he would hear next, only that it would mean he was either saved, or doomed. The wait felt like forever to him, even though it was only a moment. The sound that came was heavy, labored breathing, followed by slow hoofsteps coming his way. “Ven,” breathed Tuktua in an urgent whisper at the entrance of his burrow. “..Ven?” Her voice then went hoarse with both fatigue and emotion. “Please tell me I’m not too late..”

The spirit almost did not believe his ears. He would have leapt in joy, had he the space to in his burrow. Instead, he scrambled out as quickly as he could, emerging to see Tuktua there, standing tall. 

Ven covered his mouth with both hands in shock at what he saw. It was dark and overcast above him, but in the dim light of the Spirit Pine, he could see there were tracks all over the snow, just like he had heard. A still, dark form that he could not make out lay crumpled in a heap against a nearby tree. Tuktua’s fur looked tousled, and something dark red in color had stained much of her antlers and spattered on her face, but she otherwise only appeared to be tired. Ever so relieved at seeing him, she was unable to hold back emotion as she reassured him, “I’m all right.”

Ven bounded up to her and threw his arms around one of her legs, burying his face in it as he gave a whine, bittersweet with both fear and relief. She looked down at him, sniffing a bit loudly, bringing her head around to rest gently against the spirit in hopes of calming him. “I’m all right,” she repeated in a whisper, “and thankfully, so are you, little child.”  
Not letting go, the spirit stole a glance at the form by the tree, and buried his face into her leg again, whimpering.

“It’s dead, Ven,” stated Tuktua simply, having mostly regained her composure by then. “After lots of evading and a couple of close calls, I managed to land a solid kick with both hind legs, and then ran them into that tree.” Her tone had gone nearly as cold as the wind at this. “And then I kept them pinned there until they quit moving.”

Ven had not made any reply, and still he clung to her leg. She could tell he did this out of fear, but part of her wondered if that was the only emotion behind it. She nudged him with her furry nose, her voice sounding more gentle again, but laden with anxiety. “We should go, Ven. It might not look it, but it is morning, and we know there’s at least one more of the blight out there. I don’t want them to find us too. Let’s find some food and be on our way to the lake.”

Ven gave a little whine in what again sounded like protest, but the relaxing of his grip suggested he understood and agreed. Tuktua gave a nod, keeping her head low for the spirit to climb onto her again, after which the pair were soon on their way again.

Tuktua was able to find some food for them both again, and while it tasted just as awful as before, it was filling just like she said it would be. A short time after their meal, they arrived at the edge of the woods, where a frigid, steady wind greeted them both. Stretching far beyond, what looked like a large, flat and open field lay before them. Hills and bluffs lined with rocks and trees were on both sides of the lake, eventually rising into snowy mountains that, except from whence the pair had come, surrounded the lake on all sides.

“Here we are, Ven,” said Tuktua. “This is the lake the Spirit Pine spoke of. The animals of Nisik call it Kinu Lake.”

Ven looked astonished at the size of it, peering ahead. He then yapped excitedly and pointed ahead of them. Far in the distance, the clouds and icy mist had parted long enough to reveal a rocky mountain that stood straight ahead. It was not as tall as the others, for it had no pointed or jagged peak. Instead, when visible through the snow that drifted off it, the top was large and appeared to be mostly flat. He now understood with the mountain’s resemblance: it must be the Broken Tooth.

And on the side of the mountain not far from the top, like some distant twinkling star, shimmered a light. 

Heartened by the sight, Tuktua exclaimed, “That’s it, Ven! That’s the Broken Tooth.” She then added wistfully, “And the memory...”

In his excitement, Ven dismounted and walked to the edge, where the lake began. He hesitated, however, and suddenly became rather timid. He remembered how he had forded that stream in the past autumn, and how cold that water felt. The water of this lake was undoubtedly much colder, not to mention the constant wind that would only make it feel worse. He did not seem to understand that the lake was completely frozen over, and turned back to face Tuktua, looking sad and whining at her.

She had just finished brushing herself and her antlers against the ground and a snow-laden tree to clean the blood off herself, with modest success. She tilted her head, mystified as she walked up. “What’s wrong, Ven?” she asked, walking past him and, without a second thought, went onto the lake.

Ven gave a little hop in fright, fearing she would immediately fall through the snow into frigid water, but then stared in confusion as he saw she instead walked on it just as if she were on solid ground. 

She gave a light chuckle. “It’s all right, Ven. The lake freezes over in late autumn, and by now the ice is so thick that a whole herd of guh’nuu could walk on it without issue. And you are far lighter than a herd of guh’nuu.” She stomped the packed snow a few times with one of her front hooves to demonstrate, at which nothing happened, and nodded encouragingly. “See? It’s safe.”

Unconvinced, Ven stepped very gingerly onto the lake. He took a few steps, and even stomped a hoof a few times, getting the same result as his friend. He seemed to relax at this somewhat, and looked to Tuktua, stepping forward as if to climb onto her again.

But Tuktua had something else in mind. As she watched him test his footing on the lake, a thought came to her as she pondered on the morning attack. She did not know if she would always be able to defend this spirit. She suspected he might be old enough to be taught some things he could defend himself with. “Not this time, Ven,” she said, backing away at his approach. “There are some things you ought to learn, and I think this lake is the best place to do it. You’ve shown since meeting with the Spirit Pine that you can walk now. Have you had any trouble with it since?”

Ven looked puzzled, but shook his head in reply, proving it by circling her without any problem.

“Right,” she said, motioning with her head for him to follow, intending to teach him as they walked. Ven did follow, and the pair walked further onto the lake, continuing toward the Broken Tooth. She used this time to gather her thoughts on what she could teach him. In the meantime, she told him a little more about their land as they journeyed. She knew by how interested the spirit looked last night that she could hold his attention and encourage him to keep walking if she talked about that.

“Nisik is home to many different animals,” she said as they walked. “The most numerous of them are, first, the outha. They actually do not sleep during the winter. They are awake in every season, always curious, but almost always hidden. You may not have seen them, but they have undoubtedly seen you. Second, the guh’nuu. ...That is what I am, Ven. We do not sleep during the winter, but instead migrate to other, less harsh lands, and return in the spring.”

She could see the question in Ven’s face. “But, I choose to remain. There is more than enough in the land for me or a few guh’nuu to get by in the winter. I stay because for me, like many that live here, no matter the season, Nisik is home.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment before moving on. “Then, third, are the spirits, children of the Spirit Pine.” She stopped and turned the way they’d come. They had gone far enough that the Spirit Pine could be seen again, towering over the forest that surrounded it. “He has watched over this land for generations; none live now who remember a time where the land was without his light. It is through his light that life comes forth abundantly in the spring and summer, and is preserved in the winter. It is because of the Spirit Pine that Nisik is home to so many. But..”

She turned, resuming her walk. Ven was captivated by what she had said and, as expected, followed with her as she continued. “..with his light, there has always been the shadow, threatening to destroy or corrupt the land and the life that he sustains. And so the Spirit Pine also protects this land and its life: he, a faithful precious few and, of course, his children.”

Ven yipped curiously, lifting a hand and pointing at her. Protecting him was all she had done since he’d met her, and he remembered the Spirit Pine calling her a dear friend. Was she one of those “faithful precious few”?

She chuckled. “Well, I try to do what I can,” she humbly replied. “The spirits are the strongest at fighting the dark. Every spirit--even one newly-born--is a threat to the dark, to the blight. It’s why they hunt you, Ven. Which is why..”

She stopped walking. “..we should help you learn some things to help you defend yourself against them, or at least evade them until you become stronger. They all involve your legs.”

Bemused, Ven looked down at his hooves as Tuktua explained. “Even a newly-born spirit has strong legs. Once they’ve mastered the ability to walk, they can also leap.” She then gave an encouraging nod. “Go on, try it.”  
Ven squatted slightly, and found himself lifting off the ground briefly in the attempt. After a few times, he could almost get on Tuktua’s back this way, without having to climb. He yipped happily as he began bouncing up and down.

The guh’nuu smiled back at him. “Wonderful,” she said. “And remember too, should you get knocked down..” She then bucked, kicking out her hind legs in demonstration. “..you can defend yourself with kicks, if necessary.”

She lifted one of her front hooves toward him. “Shall we try?” she offered. “Pretend my hoof is an enemy.”

Still smiling, Ven stopped jumping and yipped in reply, bobbing his head. She then gently placed her hoof against his chest and with a push, the spirit was knocked flat on his back. However, he seemed to think of this more as though it was a game, so as she brought her hoof near him, he laughed, kicking playfully. 

Tuktua had thought to be more stern and correct Ven by telling him to take this more seriously, but thought better of it. She still felt a little bad about laughing when he ate that awful-tasting moss last night, and thought perhaps this would make up for it. And despite being playful, some of Ven’s kicks actually connected pretty forcefully with her hoof. 

She also thought of how sad, alone and scared Ven had been. No one else could have guessed he had known such feelings, with how bright and happy he looked now as he giggled and kicked, sometimes even grabbing and attempting playful bites at her leg. His laughs and precious smile tugged at her heart.

No, she could not--she would not--take this tender moment away. Eventually, she was laughing along with him, grateful to be sharing in the moment as they played.

She finally relented after a time. “Alright you, those were good, you got the idea,” she laughed, withdrawing from him. “Now,” she explained as he got back up. “If you need to flee, it turns out that spirits are also swift runners. This is why I wanted you to walk here, instead of riding on my back. Out here on Kinu Lake, you have plenty of wide, flat and open space, perfect for practicing this.” She paused and looked behind them for a moment to ensure they weren’t being followed. “Enemies also can’t sneak up on us, for they can be seen afar off,” she thought aloud. Then, she added in passing with some concern, “Well..so long as they cannot fly.” Seeing nothing behind them, she looked back to Ven and nodded encouragingly. “Give it a try. Try to go faster than just walking.”

Having enjoyed her teaching thus far, Ven looked eager to try. Setting himself facing the Broken Tooth, he broke into a jog. His stride was a little awkward, for each step he was treating more like a jump than a step. Eventually, he slipped on one of his landings, falling on and skidding to a stop on his knees. He gave a grunt of discomfort, but stood back up, dusting off the snow. The guh’nuu caught up to him. “Good effort,” she complemented. “Try pushing off more forward instead of up.”

Ven knew what she was asking, but wasn’t quite sure how to translate that into his actual movement. Still, he yapped and nodded, willing to try again. He bounded lower this time, with less of a bounce to his stride than before, but after a time lost balance and again skidded forward on his knees. Tuktua caught up again, but before she could offer more advice, the spirit was up and off again with a determined look on his face. 

A third time he fell, but this time it was harder as he landed flat, getting the wind knocked out of him. He got up more slowly this time, coughing and whining out of pain as he sat and nursed his nose. He felt as if he almost had it. 

“Ven! Are you all right?” said Tuktua as she caught up again, worry in her voice. She could tell almost immediately that the spirit looked frustrated. “You’re doing fine, child. You have the strength, you just need to temper it with the right balance, and--”

With a grunt of effort, Ven launched back onto his hooves and was at it again. He felt the headwind from the Broken Tooth blowing in his face and whistling in his ears as he went. Narrowing his eyes, he leaned down and forward a little more, and for balance, extended his arms behind him. The whistling did not subside, but he could feel as if he was cutting right through the headwind, and the stride of his legs now felt less awkward. And the more fluid the swift motion of his legs became, the faster he felt he could go.

The spirit never knew he had such speed in him. He didn’t have to envy Tuktua anymore; he’d done it, he was running! He leapt into the air, his heart feeling as though it would leap with him out of joy, and he let out a loud whoop that echoed off the mountains all around. He landed gracefully, sprinting again and focusing on the light on the mountain as he went.  
He continued running for some time. Passing a wooded bank on his right, he then saw something on that side that caused him to slow to a stop, and stare in wonder and awe. A great cliffside rose high above him, spanning nearly all the way to the base of the Broken Tooth. Only, this cliffside was clearly not made of rock. It was partly white, but mostly was a pale blue color, not that different from his own colors. Was it all made of...ice?

“Ven!” shouted Tuktua, hastening to catch up to him and breathing heavily, not yet noticing what the spirit had seen. “By the seasons, you’re fast!” she exclaimed between breaths. “I almost couldn’t keep up. Well done, child!”

She then followed his gaze. “Ah,” she breathed. “The Sirmiq. A great river of solid ice that flows down from the mountains in every season. And yes, it moves, just very very slowly. In the summer, you might see or hear it shed ice into Kinu Lake. Most of the water that runs through Nisik traces back to the Sirmiq; that’s why the water of Nisik is always cold, no matter the season.” 

Ven shivered a little, remembering when he forded that stream. No wonder it was cold.

“All the life of Nisik depends on the water it bears,” added Tuktua. “One might say it is just as vital to the balance of this land as the Spirit Pine is.” 

Ven said nothing, still captivated by the scene. It took a gentle nudge from the guh’nuu to bring him back. “Come. Now that you can run, the rest of the journey to the Broken Tooth should take less time.”

The rest of the trip across Kinu Lake did go by more quickly for Ven, but it wasn’t just because he was able to move faster now. The spirit felt happy. Happy about his new abilities. Happy in the wealth of beauty in this land, even in the midst of a frigid winter. Happy that he was not alone on this journey. 

Happy...that he had a friend. It all made the terror of that morning seem like only some distant memory or bad dream.

Now, the Broken Tooth stood before them, standing far taller than it first appeared, now that it was up close. But for a change, Ven felt undaunted by the challenge ahead. With Tuktua’s help and what she had taught him, the Spirit Pine’s task given to him no longer felt like wishful thinking or some vain hope.

He could do it. There was no ‘maybe’ about it anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

As they stepped off of Kinu Lake, Ven looked upward, staring at the light on the mountain before them. Tuktua wasted no time, setting about searching and sniffing the snow. The spirit was mentally brought back by the guh’nuu exclaiming, “I’m starving! How about you, Ven?”

The spirit’s stomach gurgled, as if in reply. He rubbed it in thought. It was true, they had had nothing since they first started on the lake, just like Tuktua had predicted. He didn’t look forward to having that awful taste in his mouth again, but having something to eat before beginning the ascent was a welcome idea. Not knowing where to look for food like Tuktua did, he instead began searching for something that might help him to dig, perhaps another stick or some flat chunk of rock.

He found something else, even in the dim light. The snow, deep as it was in some places, had not fully concealed what appeared to be a path leading up the mountain from the base where they stood. It went gradually up along the mountainside in some places, back and forth in steep switchbacks in others, and even appeared to go straight up the side among jutting rocks. Or, was the path simply buried away there?

The presence of a path in and of itself was surprising to the spirit. Why was it there?

Tuktua was busy pawing the snow among some rocks, but halted as he heard Ven come running and yipping. She tensed, initially thinking he was trying to alert to some danger, but relaxed as she saw the spirit point toward the path he’d found. 

“You’ve found the way up, I see. Good,” she replied. “It will be more difficult with the snow and ice and the path itself being less used these days, but it’s our best option.” She resumed digging away with her hooves, using the moment to tell Ven more about the mountain. “The summit of the Broken Tooth has a prime view of the land and forest of Nisik. In times past, the spirits and the outha would regularly climb the mountain, using the summit as a lookout point to locate areas badly afflicted by the blight, so they could better focus their efforts. Now, there’s no need to survey the land that way anymore, though some still choose to out of reverence or respect for those before them. Others do it simply because they like the climb, or the view.”

Ven looked perplexed. From what Tuktua said, the Broken Tooth had an important role in defending Nisik from the blight in the past. What had changed?

The guh’nuu did not answer this. Instead, she grunted in mild annoyance as her hooves scraped rock. “None here,” she said as she moved to another spot of snow to repeat the process.

She was successful this time around, finding lichen buried below. “Here we are,” she said, then breaking it up with her hooves so it would be easier to pull off the rock and eat in smaller portions. But then she withdrew, nodding to Ven. “You can have it, I’ll keep looking for more.”

Ven frowned a little, his ears wilting as he felt a twinge of guilt and another gurgle of his stomach. He felt it even more upon seeing that more lichen Tuktua had found was a meager amount compared to what she was letting him have. 

Time and time again she had put him before herself, even risking her life for him. Why? And while he wasn’t ungrateful for her help, the more she aided him, the more indebted it made him feel. How could he possibly repay? He broke off a chunk, and gave a small, sad whine as he held it forth to her.

The guh’nuu had noticed his whine, but initially paid no heed. Eager to begin the climb, there was a sense of urgency in her actions now, and she waited until she had finished her portion to say anything. She then shook her head at him. “Thank you Ven, but..I’ll be fine. I can always look for more if I need it. Now, you finish that, and we can start the journey up the mountain.”

By the look of his ears and his expression, Ven was not appeased by the answer. However, he reluctantly nodded, suppressing another whine.

The path started gradually up, Ven riding on Tuktua’s back for now as they began their ascent up the Broken Tooth. The depth of the snow was no issue for the guh’nuu with her larger hooves distributing her weight, but she still trod carefully, wary of slipping or, worse, triggering an avalanche. 

The wind was also picking up and becoming more erratic the higher they went. Not only was the wind bitterly cold, it felt amplified with the powder snow it carried. Having buried himself into her mane like before, a thin layer of powder had already accumulated on Ven. He whined, shivering involuntarily in an effort to get it off.

Tuktua almost had to shout to be heard over the gusts, as she could feel his shivering. “If you let the snow build up, it may actually help ward off the cold, Ven. Try it.”

At this point, Ven was feeling colder in this wind than he did in the wind after fording that stream. It was difficult to suppress the shivering, but eventually by doing so, a slightly thicker layer of powder had settled on him. And, true to Tuktua’s word, while the snow did feel cold against him, it kept the wind out and was much more tolerable by comparison. Trying not to disturb the blanket effect it had created, the spirit stole a glance upward. Already the light near the top of the mountain appeared to be much closer, but at their slower pace, it still felt awfully far away.

He settled back into Tuktua’s mane, his tail curling around him to protect his nose, and the layer of snow protecting the rest of his body from the wind. The wind, now howling at this point, didn’t allow for much conversation, and the repetitive motion of Tuktua’s walk made his mind start to wander again, even enticing him with sleep. He wondered what exactly he was going to find up there. The Spirit Pine was confident that whatever it was, it would enable Ven to cleanse the blight from the tree. But how? He had only seen trace evidence of that blight, not the blight itself that afflicted the tree. Despite all the things he saw and felt when he communed with the Spirit Pine, he was at a loss on what exactly he would be dealing with. If it was anything like the blighted creatures that had been hunting him...the thought alone was unsettling, and he felt a chill that again could not be blamed on the cold.

He peered out over the land that was coming into view. Even amid the blowing snow, he could make out the Spirit Pine standing tall, far in the distance. He focused his vision on it, and concentrated. Thinking on the idea he had from before about using that stick as a tool to help him dig, he wondered if perhaps some other inspiration would come to him as he fixated on the tree.

Nothing came, and before he could ponder further on this, he noticed that Tuktua had halted her walk. There was a brief pause. “Oh, no,” breathed the guh’nuu softly, and she then began to get nervous and pace around, as if she were searching. The spirit lifted his head up to look around, wondering what the matter was. Like before, he had another fit of coughing as he adjusted again to breathing the icy air. He could sense that Tuktua was worried, but did not know why.

The answer came as he peered past her to the path ahead. They were in the middle of a series of switchbacks, but a substantial accumulation of ice had formed from the mountain’s runoff, and had grown large enough to block the path. He might be able to just barely inch around it, but the guh’nuu was too large for that.

He whimpered at this observation. “I know,” said Tuktua. “Ven, I…” She hesitated, and looked up to the next switchback above them. “We aren’t that far off, but Ven..”

She paused as her thoughts continued to waver. She had hoped she would not have to say what she was about to tell Ven. “..I think I can prop you up to the next switchback, but..I don’t think I can climb it myself. Ven, you..you’ll have to keep going without me.”

Ven’s grip on her became like a vice, and he whined forlornly at her as an overwhelming dread weighed heavily on him. In this critical time, he would have to continue alone? He looked up the mountain like she had. The fear and that crippling doubt made the climb only look steeper and further away. He looked back to Tuktua, shaking his head vigorously with more whining.

She looked back at him, looking and sounding as if she were fighting to keep control of her emotions. “Ven. Ven, please, listen to me. I want to go with you, but I can’t. I’ve...never been able to climb the Broken Tooth in the winter for this very reason. The path up has always been impassable for me, for one reason or another. And even then, I..I hoped I would be wrong this time. But you have to keep going.”

This was no comfort to the spirit. He continued to whine at her, blinking back tears.

Tuktua was slowly losing her own emotional battle, seeing Ven like this. “Remember what the Spirit Pine said, Ven?” she entreated, her voice trembling. “That light above us has something only another light can have. That’s you. That’s only you. He didn’t ask me to come with you; I chose to come. Do you know what that means?”

The spirit shook his head again. It was hard to tell if he quaked from despair, the cold, or perhaps both. “It means,” she answered, “that the Spirit Pine has placed his faith in you, Ven. Not us. You. You can do it. He knows it...and so do I.”

The spirit whined again dejectedly. “Now come on,” she said, turning carefully to face the mountain. “I’m going to stand up, and you climb up on my head to get on the next switchback, and keep going. Just whatever you do Ven, keep moving. As long as you keep moving, the better you’ll fend off the cold. Use what I taught you about your legs to navigate the rocks.”

Before the spirit could protest further, he squeaked in dismay as the guh’nuu exclaimed, “Go!” and suddenly stood erect, placing her front hooves against the mountainside and craning her neck upward. Nearly tumbling off her, Ven clung to her mane and dangled for a moment before he gained his footing against her back. With a surge of adrenaline, he scrambled up her back and her head, finally climbing off her antlers onto the switchback above them. For a moment, he stood on the path breathing rapidly, stunned as it took a moment for him to realize what had just happened. He then whirled around.

The guh’nuu was about to let herself down, when she felt something had caught her antlers, and looked up. The spirit had grabbed them with both hands, yipping frantically at her as he tugged furiously.

“Ven, what are you doing!?” she cried. “I can’t climb up there! Stop!”

He would not relent, and kept tugging as if he would pull her up, even though the effort was vain. And while it would not physically be that difficult for her to force him to let go, she couldn’t bring herself to do that. “Let go of me, Ven!” she begged, trying to wrench herself free in a manner that wouldn’t pull the spirit down in the process.

But Ven would not listen. Tears had returned to his eyes as he yipped and tugged at her. There were no words to his utterances, but it was clear from his pained expression that the guh’nuu was not the only one begging.

Tuktua looked him in the eyes, and suddenly ceased her struggle. She could no longer bear the thought that, much like when they had first met, she was the cause for his suffering. There was only one way to get him to stop.

“All right! You win!” she cried hoarsely, no longer able to hold back tears of her own, or the lump welling in her throat. “I’ll try..”

With a grunt, she then leapt up against the mountainside, scrambling to find holds for her front hooves while she struggled to maintain what hold she had in her hind hooves. Ven continued to pull, his hooves digging into the snow and rock.

The guh’nuu could feel her hind hooves slipping, and constantly had to replace her footing there, but she managed to get a little higher up each time. She then planted one front hoof on the path where Ven was, using it to try to hold herself up. She was in a perilous position, both of them groaning with the exertion. But even so, she was slowly inching her way up. It seemed like she just might be able to make it.

Then, as she reached to put her other front hoof on the path above, one of her back hooves lost its hold suddenly, and her efforts to regain her footing failed. Ven squeaked in dismay, his hooves dragging closer to the path’s edge as he held onto her antlers as she slid.

She couldn’t find another hold. She knew she would not be able to support her weight much longer; she could feel it. She stole a glance below them, then looked back at the spirit, her eyes and her voice full of fear. “Ven?”

Before she could say anything else, her other hind hoof lost its hold. Her sudden drop yanked her antlers out of Ven’s hands, and with a terrified cry, she tumbled down. Ven swung out a hand to try to grab her again as she fell, but missed. 

Then, gaping in horror, he watched as the guh’nuu’s momentum carried her beyond the switchback below and down the mountainside, disappearing in a plume of powdered snow.

Never had Ven actually spoken words before. His hand still outstretched, he screamed in anguish. And yet, there was halting enunciation to it: a semblance of the name of his friend.

“TUUUUUK!!!”


	7. Chapter 7

Ven’s scream was only answered by its echo off the mountains, and the gusting wind. Fearing the worst, he abruptly sat down, unable to breathe except in short, spastic wheezes and sobs.

If only he had listened to his friend and stopped, he thought. If he had not pushed her to try to come with him, she would still be here.

The spirit had known struggle, weakness, doubt, guilt, shame, and even terror. But, loss? In that moment, its pain dwarfed them all.

He began to shiver. The only way he knew how to convey what he was feeling right now was to just wail uncontrollably, but the lump that had welled in his throat would not let him do even that. Almost blind with tears, he fixated on the distant Spirit Pine, begging in his mind for guidance as he felt the bitter cold slowly beginning to take hold of him. With his friend gone, what would he do now?

His wheezing gave way to a gasp as his smaller ears stood up, and amid the swirl of memories of his friend that rushed through his mind, he heard her repeat her words.

“You’ll have to keep going without me…”

“Keep moving..”

“Use what I taught you..”

“You can do it..”

Then, her voice repeated again, but far more emphatically than when she originally spoke. “Keep. Moving.”

At this command, the spirit bolted upright and quaked violently as sensation somehow returned to his limbs. But with that, he then gave a sharp squeak in agony. Having unwittingly been numbed by the cold as he mourned, the return of feeling brought with it a stinging throughout his body that was so terrible that he staggered backward, almost passing out.

He breathed heavily as he steadied himself and obeyed, hurrying on up the path. He stumbled at first as he continued to regain feeling in his limbs, but soon he was running as fast he could up the remaining switchbacks. Though he was tormented with doubt and grief...something more powerful had stirred within him. 

He had a work to do, and a debt to a friend to repay. He had to try. Even as the fear of failure stared him in the face, he would not let it shake him. Even if he doubted himself, he had to keep moving. Refusing to let his friend down, this newfound courage goaded him onward.

Onward, beyond the switchbacks. Onward, jumping and climbing up the steep scramble of rocks. And onward, up one more steep, snowy, slippery hill. It all passed before him in a blur.

Ven then slowed to a walk, breathing heavily as he crested the hill. He then paused to catch his breath, wrapping his arms around himself as the wind whipped about. He had not quite reached the summit of the mountain, but a smaller, snow-covered plateau with sheer drops except for the way he had come. The path continued on and up along the mountainside, going back and forth in a few more switchbacks before reaching the top.

But there was no need to continue further up. For there, on the opposite end of the plateau near the edge, was the memory. It stood tall and narrow, its needled branches laden with snow like many other trees Ven had seen in Nisik. And though it wavered in the wind, it stood firm, its light concentrated in a bright sphere that seemed to softly pulse near the base. Reflecting the light, the snow on the branches gave the whole tree a gentle, calming glow. It didn’t look that different from the Spirit Pine; it was only much smaller, with its light at the base rather than more in the middle.

The spirit felt awed by the sight. He was cold in the wind, but his slow and solemn approach was born more of a reverence he felt. A spirit like him had been lost and laid to rest here, and there was something sobering in the manner the tree seemed to overlook the land. Even though this was not the top of the Broken Tooth, the view of Nisik was no less commanding. It was almost as if that spirit had never ceased their vigil over the land, even beyond death. The thought filled Ven with a sense of respect for the spirit. For the tree that remained of them. For this hallowed place.

As he drew near the tree, he saw out of the corner of his eye that there was a small mouth of a cave in the nearby mountainside. However, he had almost missed it, for it looked as if it had been buried in a rockslide, its remaining gaps mostly filled or covered by snow and ice. It made him wonder for a brief moment as he turned to look at it. Had someone once lived here?

He shook his head, realizing he was distracted, and continued on, kneeling before the light at the base of the tree. He did not know how exactly this spirit would share their memory, but a fleeting intuition gave him an idea of how he might go about trying it.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he spent a moment taking in the serenity, like he had in the forest. He opened them, and looked out beyond the tree. Far in the distance, he could see the Spirit Pine, and his thoughts drifted to the journey he had made to get here. He had made it. With the strength lent him by the Spirit Pine, and the unceasing aid of Tuktua, he was here now. His heart twinged with sorrow as he thought of her, and the sacrifices she had made for him.

He could not--he would not--let that go to waste. Closing his eyes again, the spirit stretched forth a hand, and touched the light of the tree.

He breathed in sharply. Much like when the Spirit Pine strengthened him, he felt a warmth wash over him and renew his strength as light encircled him. The turbulent wind seemed to fade away, giving way to a great calm. The bitter cold fled as well. It didn’t feel like he was somewhere in the dead of winter anymore. But, no knowledge came to his mind, no glimmer of inspiration on how what he was feeling would help him to cleanse the Spirit Pine.

Mildly confused, he opened his eyes, and gasped in surprise. The tree before him just moments ago was gone. Mild confusion grew to bewilderment as he stood up and looked around him. He was still in the same place, but everything looked different. It was clear and dusk, and while the sky was dim, it was still much lighter than he had ever seen before. The wind had returned, but it was much warmer than before. Instead of snow and ice everywhere, there was dirt, rock and tufts of some green thing on the ground, blowing in the wind, that he had only seen in his mind when he communed with the Spirit Pine. Strangest of all, everything shimmered in some sort of haze, like images reflected off of water.

The green tufts on the ground piqued his curiosity the most. He stooped to touch one, gently running his fingers back and forth through it. It felt soft and, despite it being small in size, there was a life to it that he could feel. It made him think of when Nisik in another season was shown to him by the Spirit Pine. In that vision, there was so much life, but all of it mattered, whether it was the great Spirit Pine, or a small patch of grass like what he felt now. It was a wonder for him to see and feel this grass, for the small spark of life it carried felt like far more than anything he’d felt in the cold winter.

His reverie was broken as a tumult of noise reached his ears. He stood upright and shuddered, all of his ears twitching as he heard a growling and snarling that sounded all too familiar, mingled with distressed chirps and shrieks. It was coming from the cave mouth he had seen before, only now, it was no longer buried, but open. 

A small hatchling bird with white and brown plumage and yellow eyes waddled out of the cave as if its life depended on it, screeching repeatedly and looking terrified. Ven soon saw why, his eyes widening in fright at what followed.

A large, blighted creature--some beast he could not identify--emerged amid a flurry of feathers with a growl, another hatchling crushed and lifeless in its jaws. It then dropped the carcass to the ground and began to feast. Sickened and horrified, Ven looked to the other hatchling, who had run to the edge of the plateau, flapping its underdeveloped wings and screeching wildly. It then dawned on the spirit that the hatchling could not fly yet. It couldn’t escape.

With a cry of distress, Ven sprinted to them and tried to put his arms around the hatchling as if to try to protect them, but when he did, the hatchling’s form dissipated like smoke, rematerializing as he withdrew his hands.

The spirit then realized what was happening, but immediately wished he was wrong. He remembered how both the Spirit Pine and Tuktua had referred to the tree here simply as the “memory”. What he was witnessing was a memory, some shadow of the past. To his sorrow, he could do nothing but watch. Watch, as this abomination tore a hatchling apart, and surely would do the same to the one that remained. 

Just as the beast looked as if it was about to advance on the remaining hatchling, its attention turned to a light Ven also saw out of the corner of his eye. The beast then crouched low, growling angrily.

Ven gaped as he looked. Another spirit--who with only some slight differences bore a strong resemblance to himself--stood at the end of the plateau, having come up the same path he did. They stood defiantly, staring down the blighted creature as they raised a fist as if to grip something.

Ven was riveted by what he saw. The fellow spirit’s fist began to glow brighter than themselves, and with a swishing motion, they extended their arm to the side. As they did this, light whipped into form like a rope that they held at one end. And at the other end, a ball of light coalesced. It appeared to have some weight to it, for this fellow spirit then began to whirl it in a circular motion. They then looked in Ven’s direction and, upon seeing the hatchling, broke into a run toward them, The blighted creature charged toward the hatchling at the same time.

Squealing in fright, Ven instinctively dove out of the way as a battle ensued. Backed to the edge, the hatchling continued to screech incessantly while the other spirit reached the hatchling first, fending off the blight with swings of their weapon. Sometimes they would hit the blighted creature, but while the blows were pushing them back, the blows only seemed to glance off.

Finally, after a lot of ducking, weaving, and some near-misses from both combatants, the other spirit scored a solid hit, whacking the beast across the jaw with the ball of light on the end of its weapon. The beast staggered backward, sent off balance. Seizing the opportunity, the other spirit leapt into the air, their arms behind them as if to bring their weapon crashing down on the beast’s head.

But the beast was ready. One of its massive paws swung out wide, swatting the other spirit hard out of the air and sending them tumbling by the edge near the mouth of the cave. The other spirit whimpered in pain as they rolled onto their back, dazed from the blow.

Amid the screeching of the hatchling, Ven gave a cry of horror as the blighted creature pounced. Both of its front paws slammed down hard on the other spirit, who gave an agonized scream of pain.

...But Ven heard nothing, the image of this other spirit’s suffering indelibly seared into his own memory. Their eyes wide, they body struggled feebly and in vain as the snarling blight continued to force their weight on them and crush them. They gave one last look in the direction of the hatchling---or were they looking at him?--before they went limp entirely, their face a frozen mask of shock.

At that terrible moment, as the blighted creature turned to face Ven and the hatchling, a loud screech pierced the sky as a great bird of prey--undoubtedly the hatchling’s mother--appeared out of nowhere and crashed into the beast’s side with its razorlike talons. Raging with loss, with beak and talon it ripped into the beast who, waylaid by the sudden attack, quickly fell before the vicious onslaught.

Grieved and aghast, Ven couldn’t watch anymore as the bird went for the beast’s throat. Wishing it would all stop, he wrenched his gaze away and faced the hatchling, who despite being saved, looked equally horrified. Those yellow, fearful eyes were the last thing Ven saw as everything faded and seemed to move away from him.

He came to, laying on his side. He knew he was back, the stinging sensation of the bitter cold wind having returned. He did not know how much time had passed, but he almost did not care. He was so shaken by what he had witnessed that he was almost glad to be back in the cold. And yet, he also felt like he’d been strengthened somehow.  
Then he remembered the other spirit and the power they displayed. He stared at his open hands. Was that power his now?

Mimicking the hand motions this other spirit had made, he clenched a fist and lifted it high. He thought hard on what he saw them do, wishing the same result for himself. As if he were swinging something, he brought his fist down hard and fast. With a loud crack, light extended from his fist like a whip, lashing the frozen ground. To his mild disappointment, there was no ball of light on the end. Perhaps if he tried against and concentrated harder, he thought. He raised a fist again, gazing out toward the Spirit Pine. 

But, to his shock, he could not see the Spirit Pine there. Something obscured his view of it. Something large that flapped in the air, and only seemed to grow in size. Something...coming straight at him, fast.

The spirit squealed in fright, dropping to the ground as a massive, winged shadow swooped over him, a pair of blackened, disfigured feet with malformed talons narrowly missing him. It crashed into the mountainside, and turned on him while it unleashed a guttural screech of anger.

Ven scrambled away up onto his hooves, his nerve beginning to fail him as he backed away from it, unwittingly drawing closer to the edge. It was another creature of the blight, surely drawn to the tree’s light as Ven had communed. Only, this one had wings. 

It was no nightmare. It was real, and the spirit did not have Tuktua to protect him this time.

Screeching again, the abomination began to stomp toward him. In sheer desperation, Ven swung his clenched fist back and forth in a sweeping motion, hoping the light would manifest again. After a few attempts, it did appear, but still only in a whiplike form with no ball on the end. It was at least enough to halt the blight’s advance however, and it even began to retreat. Realizing his dangerous position, the spirit sidestepped away from the edge, and then began to move forward as he swung wildly to keep this foe at bay.

Shielding its face with a wing, the blight continued to back away, hissing until it had backed up to the tree. Ven kept swinging, getting closer each time but still not quite close enough to strike them.

But he did not realize that he had got too close. Without warning, the same wing the blight shielded itself with swung out wide, knocking Ven off his hooves. Before he could recover, the blight was upon him. He squeaked in agony as it stamped one of its feet down on him in a manner not that different from what he had witnessed with the spirit before him.

It hurt terribly as his breath was forced out of his body, and he could not breathe under the pressure. One of his arms was pinned, the other barely able to deflect the creature’s talons from raking him as the creature began to mercilessly grind their foot against his body.  
Ven could feel himself getting weaker and weaker in his struggling, and everything--even the pain--began to feel distant. His head lolling, he could see the creature rearing back to strike at his face or throat. 

Then, with a jarring sensation as overwhelming as when he jumped into that stream, the Spirit Pine flashed across his vision, repeating those familiar words that were still, but piercing.

“I need you.”

At that moment, the creature’s wing caught a sudden blast of wind that was strong enough to put them off balance, weakening its foothold on Ven. Ven gasped harshly as he found breath.

And then, Tuktua’s words were in his mind again, but in an urgent shout he had not heard from her before: “Use what I taught you!”

And in answer, the spirit reared back and, with all the force he could muster, kicked as hard as he could with both hooves at the creature’s foot. 

The sudden kick, combined with the wind, was enough to knock the blighted creature down, disoriented by the force. It bought the spirit enough time to stumble upright as he coughed and choked, only managing ragged gasps of breath. 

But even as the creature shrieked with rage at him and he struggled to breathe and trembled with lingering pain, that same strength that had spurred him up the final stretch of the path up here had returned to Ven. And it was stronger than the fear and the doubt that had tormented him.

He was not alone in this, even now. And he had not been sent here to fail. And now, he was not defenseless. Steeling himself and gritting his teeth as he focused his thoughts beyond the pain and the struggle to breathe, he began to swing his fist in a circular motion. He could feel the light return in its whiplike form. And this time, he could feel the end of it had a weight to it.

The blighted creature lunged at him with its talons bared. Leaping to the side, Ven dodged, running to circle around the back of the creature in hopes he could strike on its blind side. Landing on its feet, the creature pivoted, attempting to swat the spirit with the back of its wing.

Ven squeaked. While he was only grazed by the wingtip, its force was enough to knock him down again, his weapon dissipating. Instinctively, he quickly rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding getting pinned again by the creature’s feet. Leaping onto his hooves sprinted forward, ducking under the wing and coming out behind the creature. It whirled around again, attempting another swat at the spirit with a sweep of its wing. 

This time, Ven was ready to meet it. Clenching his fists together as if wielding the light in both hands, he swung hard.

The creature’s wing wasn’t a match for the mass of the ball on the end of the whip of light Ven had willed into form. It not only deflected the wing, but with a loud snap, broke it, bending it at a grotesque angle as the momentum carried it through before Ven loosened his grip and his weapon dissipated…

...but only for a moment. Even as the blight screeched and reeled in pain, the spirit raised a fist again as he charged the creature, whirling his weapon of light over his head. Then, grasping his weapon in both hands again, he spun around with it once, barking in exertion and his hooves digging deep into the snow as he swung hard upward.

With a nasty crunch, the ball of the weapon connected where the creature’s throat met its lower mandible. The sheer force of it lifted the creature into the air, and with a choke and a gurgle, it flopped awkwardly onto its back.

Ven fell to his knees, his heavy breathing still labored and ragged. It took a moment for his breathing to become more normal. He looked up, his eyes settling on the blighted creature. It had not got up, its body twitching and seizing as it gagged and choked. It was a horrible sound that made the spirit frown, and even begin to feel pity for the creature.

Then, he saw something large slowly fall in front of him that was not snow: a feather. He had seen them before, once among birds that flashed across his vision when the Spirit Pine conversed with him, and more recently in the memory he saw. This particular one was blackened and matted in places, but it was otherwise largely intact.

But, a feather? Then, that meant...

His heart dropped, and he gasped in dismay at an awful revelation. He had never got a clear look at any blighted creature before. All this time, he had supposed they were all some abomination born purely from the blight. Never had it entered his heart that they were once creatures of Nisik, creatures that a spirit like himself was supposed to protect from the blight. 

It did not matter to him that this creature had tried to kill him. His heart wrenching, he sorrowfully whined as he got up, any thoughts for caution abandoned to remorse as he circled around and approached the head of the creature. With his light, he was able to see them more clearly. Indeed, it was a bird, but like some terrible plague, the blight had twisted, discolored and disfigured much of its features. Only patches of its mottled brown and white plumage remained, the rest blackened and matted by the blight. By Ven’s hands, the bird’s beak was completely smashed, blood oozing out of its mouth and down its feathers. It choked and gasped for breath as its body spasmed wildly.

Filled with remorse and pity at the sight of this creature’s deep suffering in its final moments, Ven found himself again unable to hold back tears. If only he could speak his sorrow in words to the bird, for any yaps, whines or other sounds he could make, or had made, failed to fully express how he felt. And yet, he drew close, hoping that sheer desire would somehow overcome inability.

As he struggled to form the words, he saw there was fear in the bird’s maimed countenance. The hatchling in the memory had the same look...

….And the same yellow eyes. And with that observation, came the harrowing, crushing realization: this bird did not just look like that hatchling. 

It _was_ that hatchling.

Ven dropped the feather and began to tremble, unable to manage anything more than a stammer as he touched a part of the bird’s feathers that the blight had not tainted. As much as he wanted to, he could not find utterance before the bird’s choking and seizing ceased, and it went still. Then, almost immediately as it passed, a faint blue glow emanated from where he had touched the bird, radiating outward until the whole body was enveloped in this glow, before it dissolved away and, like the powdery snow all around, blew away on the wind.

Ven did not have time to dwell on how or why that had happened, for as the bird carried away on the wind, that one remaining feather lifted from the snow, threatening to be carried away also. With a cry of distress, he snatched the feather out of the air just before it blew out of reach. Holding it close in one arm, Ven fell again to his knees, his other hand on his mouth as he shook violently with a new surge of remorse. He didn’t care about the bird’s corruption by the blight, or its attempt on his life. It was no less innocent to him now than it was in the memory.

The spirit before him had died defending this bird. Now, in what felt like the utmost mockery of that sacrifice, this same creature, by that spirit’s gift, had died by Ven’s hands. Together, remorse and shame created an anguish that cut too deep to describe.

It was more than Ven could bear. Clutching the feather in both arms and rocking back and forth as tears flowed fast, the only utterances he could find to express this anguish were hoarse, strangled wails of despair. It was only when his throat became so strained and dry from his cries that he could barely breathe, that his wailing stopped.

He then slowly stood and, wheezing raggedly, walked toward the tree as he continued to hold the feather close in both arms. The anguish had not left him. Nor had the shame. Nor had the doubt. Despite all of that, however, he was reminded how the Spirit Pine and Tuktua believed in him, even when he himself had not. Their benevolence had nurtured within him a desire--no, a determination--to honor that belief. Remembering how Tuktua had said that spirits like him help the Spirit Pine to protect Nisik, he made a promise to himself: he would do that. He would use what had been given him to protect the land and life of Nisik. Perhaps then, by keeping that promise--whether he lived or died trying in the end--he would find peace to the turmoil within.

There was just one more thing he wished to do, before he would begin his return to the Spirit Pine. Still sniffling and wheezing, he planted the feather in the ground in front of the tree, holding it in place as he packed snow and some loose rocks around the feather’s shaft into a sizable mound to help keep it standing. When he was satisfied with how it looked, he knelt again, wiping his eyes as he watched the feather waver in the wind. 

He then gave a solemn nod, in his mind making that promise again, but to the pair now memorialized here. Somehow, he hoped, the bird and the spirit before him would know his vow, even if he could not speak it. 

Then, without warning, the wind howled, strong enough that it put the spirit off balance. Taking his eyes off the feather, he steadied himself with a hand. But when he looked back, the feather was bent low, and looked as though it were about to blow away again. Gasping, he reached out to grab for it with his free hand.

The feather did indeed slip free from the mound, and Ven barely caught it on the end of the shaft. But the wind did not abate, and the vane of the feather was catching the wind so much that the spirit could not bring it upright to plant it again with just the hand that he held it with.

It then slipped out of his hand, and with a yip of distress, he dove on top of it to keep it from blowing away. But only landing partly on it, he frantically grabbed at whatever parts of the feather he could before the wind would take it. In doing so, both of his hands caught on the feather at opposite ends.

Ven then cried in alarm. Held this way, the feather caught the strong wind like a sail, with such a pull that the spirit began to be dragged by it along the ground. His knees and hooves scraped loudly against the snow and ice, unable to find a hold that might stop him from dragging. Both out of panic, and an utter refusal to let this feather go, the spirit only tightened his grip.

And with a cry of terror, his legs left the ground, the wind sending both him and the feather hurtling off the mountainside.


	8. Chapter 8

The harsh wind seemed to buffet Ven from every direction, bringing with it clouds heavy with snow. Soon large flakes began to fall rapidly, veiling even the Spirit Pine from his view. In the brief moments he did face it, he could barely see its light. He could not even make out what was below him. Terrified and having no way of controlling or even knowing where he was going, he clung onto the feather for dear life, hanging and spinning helplessly in space. 

Then, amid the wind, a muffled sound reached his ears, like a call for something or someone. At first he thought he imagined it, but soon he heard it again, still unable to make it out. It came a third time, and this time he understood. He heard his name, in a voice he knew, and shook with realization.

It was Tuktua. But how? Surely he was imagining now. He had seen her fall. But the more he thought about it, the more he began to second-guess himself. Was it possible? Could she have survived?

He heard her shout his name again, though it sounded like she was doing it amid heavy breathing. He wanted to believe what he was hearing was real and not just something he imagined. 

He cried back desperately in his still-nascent speech.

“Tuuuuk!!”

Then, white ground finally came into view below him. It all looked smooth, with no trees, hills or rocks. Just open, flat ground as far as the heavy snow would allow him to see, and a tiny figure galloping below. He recognized the guh’nuu’s stride; it had to be her. And judging by the surface below, it appeared that the wind had carried him back over Kinu Lake.

But, he could see she could not keep up with him. And still, he could not control his trajectory or the direction he faced. Whenever he tried jerking his arms to stop spinning, it only made him begin turning the other direction. Soon, he lost sight of her, crying her name after her again as she vanished. 

His view rotated away from her again, and he caught a glimpse of the dim light of the Spirit Pine. It seemed taller, and other trees bordering the lake were not far below. He began to breathe rapidly and look below frantically, for that told him that he would land soon. But with no defining features, it was next to impossible to tell where the heavy snow ended and the frozen, snow-covered surface of Kinu Lake began. 

Then, before he knew it, his hooves landed--awkwardly and unexpectedly--and he slammed and tumbled in the snow, amid a snapping sound.

His light notwithstanding, Tuktua also had lost sight of Ven in the poor visibility the falling snow had created. She was battered and perhaps sustained some deep bruising from her fall, but somehow she had managed to survive the fall with no lasting injuries. She had every reason to suspect that Ven was successful in obtaining the memory, for even from below, she could see the flash of light from when he had touched it. 

But her heart ached. She had also heard the screeches of the blighted bird, and Ven’s wails that followed, but knew nothing of what actually took place up there. She had feared his sorrow was her doing, for unbeknownst to the spirit, she was filled with remorse. She wished she could have been up there with him, but it was not her failure to climb up that made her feel this way. There was something else she had done that filled her with guilt, and she was torn on whether or not to tell him what it was. Would he even understand? And if he did, would he forgive her?

She also had no explanation in her mind for how Ven had floated off the Broken Tooth in the manner that he did. She only knew that it was his light that she saw careen off the mountain, and the guh’nuu was determined to catch up with him.

But she was not swift enough, and she was out of breath. After running for so long, she paused to catch her breath and listen for something, anything besides the wind that disturbed the silence. “Ven!!” she cried. “Ven! Where are you??”

After a brief silence, her heart wrenched at the reply that reached her ears. It was muffled, but unmistakable: the spirit was crying. Fearing he was injured, she hurried on as she tried to pinpoint the sound. “Ven! Ven, I’m coming!” she shouted, her voice hoarse with emotion as she frantically searched for his light amid the snow. Eventually, she did spot a light ahead that looked smaller but brighter than the distant Spirit Pine, and picked up her gallop. 

Finally, the spirit came into her view. He was weeping openly, kneeling on the snow, facing her direction and staring at something he cradled in his arms. She skidded to a stop, gasping for breath after so much running. “Ven! At last. Are you...?”

She didn’t finish. She had thought that the spirit would be overjoyed to see her like before, but he did not so much as look at her, and only kept weeping. Did he..already know what she had done?

Ven then stood, and looked up at her, tears flowing unrestrained. His eyes seemed to plead, to beg something. A brown and white feather, stained from corruption by the blight, rested in his hands. But, the feather had broken in half in his hard landing, barely holding together by mere fibers. 

The guh’nuu looked at the feather, saw its taint, and shook her head. “Oh Ven..” she said, barely hiding a sob. “What happened up there?”

The spirit did not answer, only continuing to stare up at her with the broken feather in his hands. More than anything in this moment, he wished he could answer, that he could form the words to speak of this awful anguish and grief that racked him. He wished he could tell Tuktua, someone, anyone. He wished he didn’t have to carry this terrible burden alone. He wished she could somehow take the pain away.

But, in truth, he was not overjoyed to see Tuktua, because he was still convinced she was not real. That, if he reached to touch her, she would vanish just like those from the memory. The sight of her only worsened his grief. He turned away from her, continuing to weep.

Not knowing his thoughts, the guh’nuu took his lack of response far differently. Unable to keep her composure anymore, she confessed. “I’m so sorry, Ven. I should have called out to tell you I was all right. I..I didn’t fall that far before I somehow managed to get a foothold among the rocks and stop myself, and pull myself back onto the trail. I should have said something…”

She shook her head, looking angry amid tears of her own, but the anger was directed at herself. “...but I was angry and said nothing, and went down the mountain to wait for you.” She stomped a hoof in frustration as her eyes lowered to the snow beneath them. “I said _nothing_ because I thought it would serve you right for making me try to climb, if you thought that..”

She didn’t dare finish that sentence, then stomping both her front hooves in her frustration with herself, sobbing. “..It was a stupid, terribly selfish thing to do, Ven, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Ven had heard every word, but her confession meant little to him if she wasn’t even real, which he still believed. His crying had mostly stopped, though he continued to cradle the broken feather in his hands, avoiding her gaze.

Tuktua then drew near, barely able to speak as she moved to nudge him gently in the back with her nose, wishing he would at least acknowledge her presence. “Please forgive me,” she implored, barely managing a whisper.

Ven gasped, so startled at her touch that he dropped the broken feather, and whirled around to face her. He had not believed his eyes, and now he gaped at her in complete disbelief. Had he only imagined her touch, or was she truly real? 

He then slowly, hesitantly lifted a hand up to her, and gently caressed her muzzle. He gasped again, for not only did he feel her, but like that grass in the memory, there was a life to Tuktua that he could also feel. Together, those two things confirmed his hope: she was indeed here before him, alive.

That also meant, however, that she really had done what she confessed. She had indeed done a terrible thing, but Ven did not care, her misdeed swallowed up in his joy and relief that she was alive and here now. He threw both his arms around her muzzle in a tight hug and began to cry anew, but for once, it was not out of sorrow.

The guh’nuu was stunned by the spirit’s reaction, but with the change she sensed in his weeping, hope stirred within her. “...Did you obtain the memory?” she whispered.

Not relaxing his embrace, the spirit softly nodded.

“And you’re...you’re all right?”

He nodded softly again.

Tuktua then trembled with emotion and anxiety. “And...am..am I your friend?”

At this, Ven nodded vigorously and without hesitation, only tightening his hug further. Moved beyond words by his compassion, she broke down and sobbed.

“And you are my friend, Ven.” 

And for a time, the pair shared another tender moment as their feelings overcame them and they wept together, rejoicing in each other’s safety, mercy and companionship.

Ven then finally let go and looked behind him. He saw that the feather, though broken, still blew away on the wind. He made no effort to chase it this time, only giving a sad whine as it left them.

Tuktua watched it go as well, and she had some inkling of understanding the cause of Ven’s deep sorrow now. “You..you were mourning that bird?”  
Ven nodded again, continuing to watch the feather drift away until it disappeared amid the falling snow.

“I see,” she said, giving a sigh that quivered from all the weeping of before. After some thought, she went on. “The blight has claimed many over the seasons.” With some hesitation, she then added, “..even those we love.”

She then turned her head to face him. “But, the blight had claimed that bird well before you did, Ven. If anything, you freed them from an awful fate. As a spirit, the loss of life, especially to the dark, affects you more deeply than any other creature of Nisik besides the Spirit Pine himself. It is not wrong, nor a sign of weakness, for you to mourn them.”

Remembering his cries and wails that she could hear even from the base of the Broken Tooth, she stated, “I do not know the depth of your sorrow, dear child, but I do know this: it only stresses the importance of what the Spirit Pine has asked of you. If he is not cleansed, then far more will know the sorrow you know now. Do you understand?”

The spirit nodded, still gazing out after the feather for a time, even though he could no longer see it. Without making any sound, though still looking sad, he turned to Tuktua and moved as if to climb onto her head to sit on her back again.

“That’s it,” she replied encouragingly. “Now,” she explained as he settled himself and she began a trot toward the Spirit Pine. “The Innusik Wood--the woods we came from and now must return to--completely surrounds the Spirit Pine. We’ll be fine out here on Kinu Lake I think, but...I suspect whatever blighted creatures remain lurk in those woods. So, I’m going to go more slowly on the lake to recover and save my strength. Then, once we enter the woods, I will run, and there will be no stopping until we reach the Spirit Pine. You just hold onto me, Ven. You’ll need your strength for climbing the tree. Sound like a plan?”

Ven patted her back with a hand, giving a nod and a yip, albeit a nervous one as he tried to put on a brave face, staring toward the woods. 

He then gripped more tightly. He trusted his friend and her plan, but he could not shake off the fear of what awaited them ahead.

As Tuktua predicted, the journey across the remainder of Kinu Lake was uneventful like before, but unlike the first time, it was not calming or cheerful. The closer the pair came to the woods, the more the Spirit Pine and its light became obscured by the trees and heavy snow, and the more uneasy Ven became. Even though he heard and saw nothing to indicate the presence of blighted creatures, intuition told him that Tuktua was right, that something in the woods was waiting for them. And once he and Tuktua were in the woods, he knew there was no turning back. 

Soon they reached the shore where the woods began, and the guh’nuu slowed to a halt. “We’re here, Ven,” she whispered between breaths. “Now remember, between your light and the sound of my steps, we won’t be able to journey through unnoticed. I know several paths through the Innusik Wood to the Spirit Pine, so I can change course if necessary to try to lose any that might chase us. But I am not going to slow down. With speed and knowledge of the terrain, I believe we can outrun them. And once we reach the Spirit Pine, they should retreat.”

Sounding nervous herself, and breathing deep, she looked back at the spirit. “Are you ready, friend?”

Ven took courage at that term of endearment, remembering how having the help of a friend had emboldened him before. With her, he could do this. He laid forward on her back to give her a tight hug in reply. 

She nodded, her breath growing heavier with anticipation. “Right. Hold on!” Her hind hooves dug into the snow as she reared back and then took off in a full gallop. 

The trees all became a blur to Ven as they rushed through the wood. It was hard to see anything amid it all, but that didn’t stop him from trying, thinking that perhaps looking out for the enemy would help Tuktua better focus on staying their course and speed. Soon his ears picked up the sound of something else running through the trees. Then, it appeared, a shadow to their left that did not fly past them like the trees, but rather seemed to run alongside with them, gradually getting closer.

The spirit yelped in alarm, one hand gripping Tuktua’s mane even tighter while the other hand pointed in the shadow’s direction.

“I hear them, Ven!” shouted Tuktua. “Ahh!”

The guh’nuu suddenly veered to the right. Ven squeaked in fright as the sudden shift nearly made him fall off, and another shadow darted past on their left with a snap of its jaws, narrowly missing them both.

Ven scrambled back up onto Tuktua, and he focused to their left again. The first blighted creature had not only got closer, but its speed had matched the guh’nuu’s. Soon it would be upon them. He had thought to cry in alarm again, but the distraction that created before had nearly cost them. Gripping Tuktua’s fur tightly in one hand, he raised the other in a fist. As soon as the blighted creature was near enough, he swung.

His spirit weapon manifested, but only in its whip form, with a loud crack. It missed, but was close enough for their pursuer to slow down for a moment. Its glowing, discolored eyes now fixated on the spirit, the blighted creature caught up again. But before it could lunge at him, Ven landed a whiplash on its snout. With a shower of sparks, the creature yelped in pain, as the hit not only stung, but appeared to burn, and they lagged behind as they smarted from the blow.

Even as the creature fell back, Ven continued to swing his weapon to deter the beast…

..until the whip snagged on a protruding branch. Ven yipped in dismay as the sudden drag yanked him off balance, sending him tumbling off Tuktua and into the snow.

“Ven!!” she cried, skidding on all four hooves in an attempt to stop and turn back after him.

But even as he landed, adrenaline surged through Ven, and he tumbled only briefly before launching off his hooves into a sprint, his pursuer catching up and snapping their jaws after him, barely missing his tail as he took off after Tuktua. It was hard to see ahead with all the snow, but the faint light of the Spirit Pine was enough for him to make out her silhouette.

Having seen the spirit catch up, Tuktua galloped anew, and the pair ran side by side, with the one blighted creature still hot on Ven’s heels. 

“Faster, Ven!” Tuktua then cried again. “Look out!!”

Tuktua veered again, this time to the left. Ven barely saw the shadow--albeit a smaller one--dead ahead in time. He launched himself into the air, the shadow passing beneath him in a pounce that missed and then collided with the other creature pursuing him. 

Time seemed to slow down for the spirit as he sailed through the air. He had jumped so unexpectedly and with enough force that it was more like a high dive than a leap, and he was beginning to fall forward in the air. Realizing he would not land on his hooves like this, he squealed and began to flail his arms wildly.

And in that moment, in a flash like before, the still voice of the Spirit Pine came through his mind again, uttering words the spirit had heard him speak before, about the one whose memory he had obtained: “He had learned to use the light...to swing and to climb..”

Ven immediately understood what this inspiration suggested, but he had never attempted it before. Desperately, he swung an arm upward, hoping his weapon might catch onto something, anything that might break his fall. 

Light whipped out from his fist, wrapping itself on an overhanging branch, and he squealed again as he swung low, his hooves barely missing the ground. He tried to let go, but held on too long before he did so, the resulting momentum flinging him forward in the air again.

But this time, his friend was ready, veering back. The spirit bounced once on Tuktua’s back, but then awkwardly caught on, almost falling off again. He clung to her fur for dear life, the guh’nuu making no effort to slow down once she saw he was riding her again. She said nothing, her thoughts centered only on galloping as fast as she could toward the light. Toward the Spirit Pine.

Ven soon righted himself on her back, quickly scanning the trees around them. He blinked in surprise; there were no shadows visible, trying to overtake them. The only sounds he heard were Tuktua’s heavy breathing to her gallop. 

He then looked ahead of them. Amid the snow, the Spirit Pine’s light was brighter. He could tell they were close.

His mouth opened slightly in astonishment. Were they clear? Had they done it?

And then suddenly, everything became brighter as they burst into the clearing. Ven looked up and, almost overcome with relief, clenched both his fists and wanted to leap and shout for joy. 

Then, he noticed how even in the seemingly short span of time that they had been gone, the Spirit Pine had grown dimmer. He wilted in dismay as he saw that more of the saplike, purple substance that stung to the touch had coated more of the trunk. How would he be able to climb the tree and not be hurt by that?

“We made it!” breathed Tuktua and slowing to a stop beneath the tree’s branches. She then laid down abruptly, not so much for Ven to dismount more easily, but because she was completely winded. She then saw the blight oozing down the tree and cringed. “Can you….can you get up in the branches, Ven?”

The spirit looked around above him, worry mounting within him as he looked around for some branch that hung lower than the others. Even the lowest branch was too high for him to jump up. He even tried to catch onto it with his light weapon, but even that came up short after multiple swings.

The Spirit Pine had told him that with this weapon, he would be able to cleanse the tree. But even with it, he could not begin the climb. He looked to his friend, whining as worry gave way to panic. Had he forgotten something? Was he just not focusing enough? Why could he not make it work??

Tuktua looked a little worried herself, but nevertheless tried to calm him. “Keep trying, Ven..” she said between breaths. “I’m sure if you--” She then tensed at the sound of growling, getting on her hooves quickly as she turned to the edge of the clearing, from whence they had come. 

One of their pursuers emerged from the trees into the clearing. It was what was known in Nisik as a “tekaen”, a wolflike creature, or unfortunately, what was left of one. It seemed to struggle to breathe, and not just from the chase. Over time, it had become withered and emaciated by the blight. Its fur, once a grayish white, had become blackened and matted, even missing completely in patches. Discolored blotches, growths and even some lesions could be seen on its body. Finally, a fresh burn, shaped like a cut or lash, was on its snout from where Ven had struck them. It continued to advance cautiously into the clearing, snarling and baring its rotting fangs at Ven.

“No..” breathed Tuktua, shuddering with horror at the sight. Never had she seen a creature so cursed willfully come into the light like this one did now. And worse, it was not alone. A second tekaen--afflicted almost just as badly--appeared behind the first.

An idea came to her, but the window to act was short. “Ven!” she exclaimed, fear in her voice as she quickly faced the spirit and lowered herself. “Jump off my head. I’ll lift you, you might make it up that way!” 

Ven hesitated, for he was even more horrified than Tuktua at the pair of blighted creatures, but he understood what she meant. Spurred into action by the fear in her voice, he burst into a sprint at her and leapt while she braced. Behind her, he could see the tekaen beginning to close in, but it looked more like they were coming for him.

The spirit, however, was swifter. Tuktua winced as Ven landed on her head, coming into a squat and managing to avoid her antlers. Then, with a shout of exertion from them both in unison, the guh’nuu pushed off her front hooves and swung her head up, while Ven pushed off with both of his hooves.

The spirit shot upward, clearing the lowest branches of the Spirit Pine with ease. The brushing of needles against him stung a little as he soared, but nothing like he would have felt had he tried to climb the trunk of the Spirit Pine. He managed to grab onto a branch above him with both hands before beginning to fall. As soon as he was sure he was steady, he looked down, crying out for his friend.

He had not seen during his leap that the first blighted tekaen had lunged into the air after him, but missed. With Ven now out of their reach, both turned on Tuktua, but in their attempt to catch the spirit, the first tekaen had left themselves open. The guh’nuu seized this advantage, driving her front hooves into their side, mercilessly trampling over them and then taking off around the trunk of the Spirit Pine as the second one closed in fast. 

It was a maneuver she had used many times, waiting for the right moment for the wolf to lunge at her backside, before she pivoted off her front hooves and dealt a fierce kick with both of her hind hooves. Both caught her foe right in the jaw, sending them sprawling to the ground.

But she was by no means out of danger, and it showed in her voice as she responded to Ven’s cry. She quickly looked up and shouted, “Get climbing, Ven! Go!!”

The spirit whined at her again, not wanting to leave her to defend herself alone again, especially now that he actually could help.

But she would have none of it. Her ears flattening and the fur on her neck standing up, she bellowed angrily at him. “GO!!!”

Taken aback at her using such a tone with him, Ven was quickly reminded of what happened the last time he didn’t listen to her. Though they had forgiven each other, lingering remorse for his part persuaded him to obey this time. Suppressing a sob, he hurried on up, hoping perhaps that the sooner he did what he had come to do, the sooner he could return to her aid.

The first tekaen writhed on the ground, struggling to breathe after Tuktua’s attack and trampling. The second, however, had managed to stumble upright in a daze, shaking their head and snarling at Tuktua as darkened blood began to flow out of the side of their mouth through fangs shattered from her blow.

The guh’nuu could have moved in to attack again at this point, but she instead stood her ground. Her breathing was labored and heavy now. She was exhausted from both the run to get here, as well as from defending herself thus far. She lowered her head, pointing her antlers forward to keep her foe’s next attack at bay.

Then, with a crash of branches, a third beast burst forth into the clearing. The smaller shadow that Ven had leapt over had joined the fray. It was a kazhna, a smaller, cat-like creature with fur colored like ash. It had long legs, long pointed ears with dark tips, large paws and a short tail.

But like the tekaen, blight had taken a terrible toll on it. One of its eyes looked as though it had literally rotted away. Its coat had withered to a mix of a dark purple and a sickly green from infection, and much of its body was pockmarked with scabs and open sores. And it wasted no time, growling only once before it ran full speed at Tuktua.

The guh’nuu shuddered again, and turned herself and her antlers to face the more immediate threat. But, just when she thought it would leap at her, it veered to the side, circling her wide and going for the trunk of the Spirit Pine. 

Shouting in dismay, Tuktua realized what it was doing and turned after it, but she was too late. The cat leapt and quickly began scaling up the trunk of the tree, getting out of reach before Tuktua could do anything.

“Hurry, Ven!” she cried up to him. “One’s climbing up after you!”

Having been distracted, she almost did not see that the second tekaen was charging at her again.

***

Ven scrambled up the branches of the Spirit Pine as quickly as he could. Sometimes he had to use his whip to bridge a gap or two, but for the most part, the branches of the Spirit Pine were numerous and thick enough that he had little trouble finding places he could climb off of. Below him, he heard the crack and snap of branches with the hiss of falling powder amid Tuktua’s warning. He had not seen the kazhna yet, but the noise of its approach was enough for adrenaline to surge through the spirit again, quickening his ascent.

But though he climbed faster, he did so more recklessly. After a while, as he reached up for the next large branch, he did not notice the blight’s saplike discharge was on it as he grabbed it. He recoiled sharply, squeaking in pain and almost losing his footing on the branch he stood on. With that pain, however, he realized he must be getting close to the source of the blight. Why else would its corruption spread this far out where it had not before? Finding another branch higher up and further away, he leapt and continued to climb up, slowing down a little as he made an effort to be more cautious. 

He soon found himself on one of the tree’s more massive boughs that led almost like a path from the trunk of the Spirit Pine, but the way was overgrown with smaller, snow-laden branches, with dim rays of bluish-white light peeking through. He looked down on the branch he had tried to grab earlier, and saw that the frozen discharge was preceded by dark tendrils that coiled around the branch and gradually led up toward the light ahead. On closer inspection, the spirit saw that other tendrils like the first had wrapped themselves around other branches close by--all converging ahead of him.

The spirit’s growing unease and the sensing of some foul presence--something darker than any blighted creature he had encountered previous--only confirmed his suspicions. 

This had to be it. The source of the blight must be ahead. Pushing and squeezing past the branches, Ven made his way through toward the light.

Eventually the branches gave way, and Ven soon found himself in what seemed like a sort of chamber formed by the way the boughs of the tree and their smaller branches had woven together. In the trunk ahead and above him, rested a great sphere of light, swirling with white and blue like the ocean. It hummed softly and pulsed, but it was much dimmer than what he had seen in vision. 

Below that, directly ahead of Ven and protruding from the trunk where the branch joined it, was indeed the source of the corruption. The sight of it made the spirit shrink with horror. A massive, round, blackish-purple abscess--far bigger than him, and with an unholy glow and throb of its own--was embedded into the trunk of the tree. From there, with appendages like frozen tentacles, it extended outward from there, withering or corrupting any branches it or its saplike discharge touched.

Now the spirit understood. The blight was leeching, choking the Spirit Pine of his power, somehow using the same life-giving energy to sustain and strengthen itself. And soon, it looked as though it would overtake the tree’s light completely. But, frozen like this, it was also vulnerable. With his new ability, the spirit could smash it apart. And then, if that did not kill it, perhaps it would weaken it enough for the Spirit Pine to revive and overcome it.

Ven hurried forward, careful not to step on any of the blight as he drew near. But before he raised his hand to summon his weapon, he stopped. He suddenly realized that it had gone eerily quiet. Only moments ago, the kazhna was making all sorts of noise as it climbed up the tree after him. Now, there was nothing. Crouching on all fours, he peered over one side of the branch, frantically scanning for some sign of his pursuer. He then peered over the other side and did the same.

Nothing. There was silence.

Then, tensing all over, he very slowly turned to look above him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the blighted creature’s one good eye flash before it growled and roared as it pounced from the branches above.

***

The second tekaen had already leapt at Tuktua before she could ready herself. She turned to face him just in time, barely deflecting his attack off her antlers. But it was already lunging at her again, trying to bite her neck. Lifting onto her hind legs, she avoided the attack while she flailed at them with her front hooves, hoping to strike them in a vulnerable spot like the throat or eyes. 

Her blows only glanced. She was on the defensive now, weighed down with fatigue as the tekaen pressed relentlessly. If she didn’t land a solid blow soon, it would be over for her. She continued to fend off their attacks, but did so weakly. Her dodges became sluggish, one eventually leaving her off balance and her flank exposed. Seizing the opportunity, her foe lunged for her neck again.

And with as much force as she could muster, Tuktua swung her head around hard. The tekaen collided with her midair in its pounce, but instead of finding her neck, it gagged and gurgled, the roof and other parts of its open mouth impaled upon her bony, sharp antlers. With a shove, she then threw the blighted creature to the ground.

She did not stop, for in that moment, a deep, latent rage had welled up from within her, subduing her fatigue. Snorting angrily and with cold, callous savagery, she was upon her enemy before it could defend itself, using her weight and sharp, cloven hooves to trample on the beast. Over and over and over again, she stomped anywhere she could, snapping bones, crushing vital organs and spattering blood until the beast moved no more. Then, she trampled some more. 

She then withdrew from the mangled carcass. As the rage finally subsided, the fatigue returned, overpowering her. The guh’nuu collapsed abruptly, fighting to breathe. She had never felt so tired in all her life. It took her a moment to find enough breath to cry up into the branches.

“Ven? Friend, can you hear me??”

Just then, she heard another sickly growl, and gasped as she looked up. The first tekaen that she had trampled was not dead. They had managed to get up, and though they limped badly toward her, their fangs were bared, their matted hackles raised, and snarling as they readied to move in to kill.

Gripped with both fatigue and fear as she struggled to get back up, Tuktua screamed between breaths.

“Ven, HURRY!!” 

Then, she looked up again at the sound of something falling, crashing through the Spirit Pine’s branches amid the rushing sound of falling snow.

***

Ven squeaked as he tried to roll away into the branches he’d just pushed through, but it came out pained as the kazhna’s landing caught him by the tail. As he turned onto his back to face his attacker, they were already pouncing at him again. Again Tuktua’s teaching saved him, claws narrowly missing his face as the spirit met his adversary with both hooves to their ribs. The force of the kick bowled the kazhna over and off the branch, also pushing Ven into the branches. The abrasive bark and the prickly needles hurt to scrape against and grasp, but they did prevent the spirit from falling off the branch himself. He whined out of pain as he struggled for a moment to get up from the awkward position without slipping again, and made his way forward.

The sound of scratching, labored breathing and hissing told him that his enemy had not quite fallen. It held onto the branch with its claws, but was having difficulty maintaining a grip, much less climbing back on, as its hind paws dangled in the air. Even as Ven approached, however, it scowled and hissed as it glared at him with its one good eye.

The spirit did not share the same seething look as his attacker. Rather, he looked sorrowful, averting his eyes from the creature. He did not want to feel responsible for the death of another creature of Nisik, blighted or not. And yet, any other option in his mind inevitably led to having to fight the beast again. And would he be as lucky the next time? Not only that, would he be able to return to his friend’s side in time if this foe continued to delay him?

He had to help Tuktua. He had to destroy the blight on the tree. He lifted his hand again, summoning his weapon and gaining weight on it as he whirled it overhead, slowly turning to face the kazhna that still struggled to keep on the branch.

And with a stomach-turning crunch, the spirit brought the weight of the ball of light down hard on the creature’s skull. The beast made no noise, but dropped limply, crashing and tumbling through the branches toward the forest floor below.

He then stared ahead at the abomination responsible for the Spirit Pine’s malaise. Strange thoughts then passed through his mind. It had done this. It was the one that corrupted the beast Tuktua had slain in his defense. It had corrupted the tekaen. It had corrupted the kazhna and that bird, forcing him to kill them both. And now, it was poised to corrupt all of Nisik.

The spirit had experienced many emotions in his young life thus far, but anger was not one of them...until now. He stepped forward, whirling his weapon above his head and bringing it down hard with both hands onto the abscess.

Yet, to his bewilderment, the ball had barely formed on the end of his weapon, and it bounced harmlessly off the growth. Multiple times he swung again, his frustration growing each time as each time he had the same result. 

He paused, having started to breathe heavily. He had used the weapon successfully before, even just moments ago; why wouldn’t it work now?

Then, he heard Tuktua’s distressed cry from below, echoing all around. Anger changed to fear, and then from fear to desperation. He did not want to feel responsible for the loss of his friend again.

He swung again. It did nothing to the blight on the tree.

He had to help his friend. Nothing.

He couldn’t bear losing her again. Again, nothing.

The spirit began to cry as the threat of failure gripped him, yet another swing having no effect.

Then, he heard his friend’s words echo in his mind: “The Spirit Pine has placed his faith in you, Ven. Not us. You. You can do it.” And with that, the next swing slammed onto the abscess, visibly denting the ice and its crystal-like shell, leaving a small crack.

The spirit paused, stunned with astonishment, but only for a moment as thoughts, words and memories rushed back into his mind, inspiring him onward as he kept swinging his weapon again and again.

The Spirit Pine’s voice echoed in his mind: “What little untainted strength I can lend….I give to you.” The dent deepened, and the crack lengthened.

He remembered when Tuktua taught and played with him on Kinu Lake. More cracks appeared.

“And you are my friend,” he remembered her saying as they embraced and wept together. The cracks widened and deepened, the ice beginning to buckle under the stress.

And then, he remembered a promise he had made on the Broken Tooth, a promise he intended to keep. With one more hard swing, the ice and frozen shell of the abscess smashed open and split apart.

But even as the blight smashed open, a dark, fetid discharge spewed forth, the frigid air turning it into a mudlike slush. The abscess and its appendages began to crack and fall apart, the discharge splattering everywhere…

...including all over Ven. It seeped into his eyes, into his mouth. He had felt the stinging touch of the blight before, but this...this was beyond excruciating, and he felt it all over, like he was being burned alive. Reeling backward, he rent the air with an awful, agonized scream, before he blacked out, his footing slipped...and he fell from the branch.

*** 

Tuktua had barely managed to get on her hooves, but the noise coming from the Spirit Pine gave both her and the remaining tekaen pause. Amid the snow falling from the branches, the lifeless body of the kazhna fell through the branches, landing on the ground with a thud. She took heart at this.

Then, her heart dropped at the sound of Ven’s piercing scream. Smaller branches snapped, larger branches groaned and creaked and more snow fell as something bigger came crashing down like an avalanche. She yelped in alarm as large chunks of ice, frozen blight and other smaller debris began to rain down from the branches, and she scrambled out from under the tree. Even her attacker retreated.

She then turned and watched as the frozen chunks of blight continued to fall. “..He did it,” she whispered in astonishment. At first, she hesitated to hope, but as more of the corruption shed from the tree, she could not contain herself. “He did it!!” she shouted triumphantly. Tears of joy began to well in her eyes.

...which then flowed fast, as she then saw a faint, badly maimed blue light fall limp to the ground among the debris.

“NO! VEN!!” she screamed hoarsely. Her legs leaden with exhaustion, she stumbled her way back beneath the tree, heedless of the debris that continued to fall. She winced, faltering at times as smaller falling chunks and debris struck her, but she shuffled on, the rain of debris finally ceasing as she drew near one particular pile of the debris, from under which her friend’s light could be barely seen. 

She gave a strangled sob, and then a gasp as she heard growling again, and turned. Her last foe had come back, still limping but with new fervor as it bore its fangs and snarled at her and her friend.

Her legs and voice trembling, she snorted angrily, refusing to leave her fallen friend’s side. “You will _NOT_ take him!” she exclaimed, strongly emphasizing each word. Undeterred, her foe continued to advance, and she braced for one last battle.

Then, suddenly, her ears rang as a loud clap like thunder burst in the air, and the Spirit Pine almost instantly became far brighter than she had ever seen, humming loudly. The tekaen shrank and whimpered at the sight, turning and beginning to flee.

They didn’t get far. Tuktua bellowed in surprise as with a second thunderlike clap, a wave of light burst forth from the tree’s light vessel above like a shockwave, with every flake of snow swept off its branches like some huge, wintry explosion. The force of it knocked the guh’nuu down hard, while the fleeing tekaen and the other blighted corpses glowed blue as the light washed over them, and like powder snow on the wind, reduced them to dust. 

Then, there was silence. The wind had ceased and the snowstorm had ended, but the snow of the tree now reverently fell anew, glistening in the tree’s brilliant, renewed light.

Tuktua groaned as she came to, shaking her head as she revived and recovered from a daze. She squinted her eyes as she looked up. It was so bright under the Spirit Pine, she could have easily believed she was in broad daylight. She watched as the tree’s snow gently fell over the quiet, calm scene. 

But her grief would not allow her to find solace. “Ven? Ven!” she cried, staggering upright and going to him. 

The wave of light had cleared away the debris that buried the spirit, but still Ven lay there on his back, unresponsive. His light had become very faint. The majority of his front was covered in the blight’s discharge, and any part of his body it had touched had withered, giving him the appearance of having been horribly burned.

Barely able to even distinguish the spirit’s features, Tuktua couldn’t hold her emotion back anymore. “You poor, brave little child..” she whispered before she broke down and wept without restraint or control. And like he had stared up at her, begging without words as he held a broken feather in his hands, she now did the same as she gazed up at the Spirit Pine. Now, she wished the tree could somehow take her pain away.

Were it not for the complete and utter silence, she might have missed the sound that, for a moment, she too thought she had imagined: a faint, pained wheeze. Immediately she looked down. She blinked hard, trying to clear out her tears, for she feared she might be imagining something else she thought she saw: the spirit’s light was less dim than before.

Too afraid to hope, she stared at him intently. She shook her head and blinked hard, her vision clouded with tears to the point that she believed they tricked her eyes. Then, she heard him wheeze again and again until his breath, while still slow and faint, became recurrent.

She then gaped in awe and disbelief, for in all her life, she had never seen what unfolded before her eyes now. The spirit’s light, slowly but surely, was returning, until it reached--and then surpassed--his familiar luminance, shining through even where the blight had maimed him. And as it did so, his body slowly began to mend. 

The withering and scarring slowly seemed to dissolve away. His facial features gradually reformed. His fingers and legs tensed and flexed as limb and joint were restored to their proper, unmarred frame. His chest began to rise and fall as his breaths became both deeper and less pained. Even his colors returned to their healthy tone. 

The spirit...was whole. As his light faded to a more normal glow, he opened his sapphire blue eyes, and looked up at his completely dumbfounded friend. He began to tear up, but weakly he smiled.

“Tuk..” he whispered. “Tuk..tua..”

“Oh Ven,” cried Tuktua, her anguish from just moments before now forgotten. She even laughed amid her tears, for she was filled with incredulity at what she had just witnessed. “Where...how..?”

She then looked up again, smiling with deep gratitude. “Thank you,” she said, believing the spirit’s healing to be the Spirit Pine’s doing.

The Spirit Pine then spoke in its familiar deep, rumbling, but also still voice amid a gentle hum. “My dear friend,” he said, “I did nothing to aid my child beyond our first meeting. Though...I sense he has not finished.”

Ven slowly sat up, whining and looking as though he did not feel well. Tuktua tilted her head, perplexed as she listened to the Spirit Pine’s answer. Was the tree...also astonished?

She was distracted from this as Ven started to make short grunting noises. He bent double as his stomach and neck began to seize, and he opened his mouth slightly, beginning to heave. And before the guh’nuu could ask what was wrong or what was happening, with little warning, the spirit fell forward, catching himself with both hands before he then retched up a blackened, congealed mass onto the ground, and spent the next moment or so coughing and spitting to clear out his mouth and throat as best he could.

“Oh!” exclaimed Tuktua with revulsion, averting her eyes as Ven did this. “That’s...ugh!”

Unfazed, the Spirit Pine asked, his voice tinged with urgency. “Friend, if you could, he is weak and needs nourishment. Can you find and bring food?”

Tuktua blinked for a moment, and then nodded. “Yes, of course,” she replied, turning and walking with hesitation, as she was still weary from the recent battle. She stole a glance behind her at Ven, her brow furrowing with concern before she turned and disappeared into the trees.

Food. Shelter. Sleep. As Ven sat back again, supporting himself with his hands and breathing heavily, those nagging thoughts from that cold autumn night had returned to his mind. But just as strongly, the spirit finally felt relief. Whatever blight had remained on or in him, he had now just managed to forcefully expel. A burden had been lifted from him. The danger was finally in the past. He felt...lighter, if that was even possible. Like that serene trance he had in the forest, he slipped into another moment of quiet revel.

After a time, he felt his smaller ears twitch as the voice of the Spirit Pine came into his mind. “Well done Ven, my child. Well done, indeed. I am...rejuvenated. Perhaps now we can both finally rest easy for a season, hm?”

Ven looked up, and then down at the mass of blight he had vomited, which by then had already shrunk and shriveled to almost nothing under the Spirit Pine’s intense light. The spirit made no audible reply, only nodding wearily.

“You are...a rare one indeed, Ven,” the tree continued. “No ordinary spirit mends from such grave injuries by themselves as you did.” He paused, as if pondering for a moment. “For now,” he then concluded, “I would ask that, when you are able to speak, to not speak of this power. Not even to your beloved friend. In time, we will see if this power matures with you. And if so, we shall commune on this further.”

These words filled Ven’s mind with so many questions. He was barely aware, if at all, of what he was doing at the time this power manifested itself. Why must it be kept secret? Even from his friend, who had already witnessed it? Would he still have it, as time passed? And if he did, what would that mean?

...What if he could use it on more than just himself? Could it mean that corrupted life--creatures like that bird--could be saved?

It was all wearying for him to think about, especially with hunger and fatigue tugging increasingly at his thoughts. Tuktua soon returned, bearing more of his “favorite”. His ears wilted at the sight.

“Oh, come now,” huffed the guh’nuu in mock offense after dropping the lichen by him. “It can’t be worse than what you just tasted.” 

The spirit grumbled. She did have a point there. 

As Ven (reluctantly) ate, the Spirit Pine spoke again, this time audibly, and to them both. “Thank you, both of you. The Light will yet grace this land with a bountiful summer for all of its creatures because of your deeds. And once again, I am reminded that this land thrives not solely because of the Light. It is also because of courage, tenacity, and friendship. Together, they are a power greater than even the harshest winter. Remember and treasure such things...especially as you are apart.”

Tuktua’s eyes lowered to the ground, and Ven looked up, whining with dismay, then glancing at his friend. What did he mean?

“My child,” explained the Spirit Pine, “you have done all that I have asked, and it has left you weakened. I must devote my strength to undo the rest of the damage that was done. Now you must rest, not only to assure your survival, but that you may awaken along with and join your kin. They will need you.”

After another pause, he spoke further. “Tuktua.”

The guh’nuu looked up, trying (and failing) to hide her own sadness as the tree addressed her. “I’m sure you know of someplace in these woods not far away, where he can rest safely? Some unoccupied burrow, perhaps?”

After some thought, she bowed slightly. “I do. I..I will take him there.”

The Spirit Pine gave a contented sigh. “It is well.” And with that, he went silent, leaving the pair to ponder on his words, and carry out one last task.

From on the back of Tuktua, Ven gave one last look back at the Spirit Pine, and waved as the woods drew over it like a curtain as the pair left the clearing. For what seemed like a long time, they journeyed in silence. On Ven’s part, he was either lost in thought again about all that had happened, or fending off sleep, yawning on occasion.

Tuktua was also lost in thought about the events of these past few days, the foremost of which was Ven’s miraculous healing. Even as knowledgeable as she was, much of the nature of spirits and the link they share with both the land and the Spirit Pine remained a mystery to her, and what she had witnessed was no exception. Yet, even if the spirit could speak to her of it, there was something about it that made her afraid to ask, like she had seen something not meant for her eyes.

And she was no fool. She knew she had not been sent away just to get food. Either way, there would be no discussing the matter that night. They had succeeded; all was well. She was satisfied with that.

Something else then began to distract her from this topic, and even weighed heavy on her mind: soon, they would be parting ways. Even if only for a season, it saddened her deeply. Rather than let her emotions get the better of her, she unexpectedly burst into conversation as she trotted on.

“You still awake there, Ven? It should be the end of spring or beginning of summer when you wake. Oh, you’ll love summer, Ven. Everything will look so different. Plants and ferns everywhere on the ground. And fruit! Lots and lots of all different kinds of fruits and berries. Hah! You’ll never want to eat lichen again after you eat some of that. And so many more animals! You’ll surely meet the outha, see herds of guh’nuu, and your kin, of course! Maybe you’ll even get to see some spirits be born! It’s a beautiful sight. And daylight! So much daylight...” She continued to go on and on like this, talking at a rate that was not typical of her.

After a time, they arrived in a small clearing where a tree had fallen, and the guh’nuu abruptly trailed off in her rambling, then becoming uncharacteristically inarticulate.

“...Oh. Um..I think..I think we’re here. I think this...this is it,” she said, almost sounding disappointed.

Ven had almost fallen asleep, despite all his friend’s talking, but stirred as she stopped in the clearing. She then started pawing the snow and frozen debris beneath the fallen tree, and sure enough, she uncovered a hole in the ground. “..Yes, this..this is it...indeed.”

The spirit hopped down from her, examining the entrance. He looked back at her. He could see something troubled his friend.

Putting on a brave face, she motioned with her head forward. “Go on. You can check that it’s...big enough or...isn’t inhabited, or um..hasn’t collapsed.” 

He nodded, then disappearing within the hole. The guh’nuu waited, but as she did so, she became increasingly anxious, even conflicted, pacing around as she mentally struggled to find the words she might say when the moment she dreaded would arrive.

Ven popped out of the hole a bit suddenly, enough to startle her, yapping and hopping happily with a big smile on his face. She could assume his excitement meant the burrow would suit him just fine. “Good, good,” she said, her speech still faltering. “I can...I can help you c-cover it up as you go in. Just, um..” She tried so hard to look happy, forcing a laugh. “You’ll probably be bigger when you wake, so it might be a tight squeeze for you getting out, eheh!”

There was an awkward pause between them. Ven’s smile faded, and his ears lowered. 

“I..I guess this..this is goodbye for now, isn’t it?” Tuktua said, barely keeping her emotion in check, then sniffing loudly.

With a sad whine, Ven threw his arms around the guh’nuu’s muzzle, hugging her tightly. There was so much he owed her, so much that he wished he could say to her. So, he said the only thing he could say.

“Tuktua..”

Yet, she knew. He was not just saying her name. What he truly meant was: “Thank you.”

She heaved an emotional sigh as he relaxed his embrace. “I’ll miss you, Ven. You..you’ll look for me when you wake, won’t you?”

He nodded, giving her a sad smile as he blinked back tears of his own. He then reached and caressed her head gently. Their reunion was just a dream away for him, but he knew it would be a long time for her to wait. What he couldn’t say by way of comfort, he hoped she would feel.

And she did, hope stirring within her as she looked forward to that day in her mind with joy. She even smiled back amid her tears. “Alright, you,” she said, emotion still in her voice as she nudged him with her head. “Off to sleep you go. Summer awaits, dear friend.”

He nodded, his eyes looking heavy again, and he yawned wide and long as he withdrew from her, wiggling his way backwards into the hole so he could use his hands like before to cover up the entrance. Tuktua helped him do this, so it didn’t take long to do. Just as they were about to finish however, he put a hand out, extending it as if he were reaching, whining as he did so.

She understood, and carefully lowered herself so that his hand touched her muzzle. Again like before, he gently brushed her, bestowing one last comforting touch before he withdrew, covering up and disappearing in the burrow.

Tuktua stood again, shivering slightly as she became aware of a frigid breeze. “..Goodbye, Ven. We’ll meet again.”

She then heaved another emotional sigh, before she turned and trotted off deeper into the woods. Her heart ached, but she knew it would be all right.

For she knew and felt, just as Ven did before deep sleep overtook him: there was peace in the land and forest of Nisik.

The End


End file.
